


Not A Perfect Soldier, But A Good Man

by BuckyCapRox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Sexual Situations, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Scars, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7059181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyCapRox/pseuds/BuckyCapRox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Passionate about his painting, Steve Rogers still needs to hold a day job to pay the bills. When Iraq War Veteran, James Buchanan Barnes steps into his life, Steve gets a workplace crush. Finding out Bucky needs a place to stay, Steve offers to have Bucky come live with him. Soon, everything gets much more intense than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These people make a lot of mistakes, they jump into things and do things that other people ask them not to.  
> Also, Steve can be very pushy, but he means well.
> 
> This story is fully written. It will hopefully be updated every few days. more often if I find less typos, less often if real life gets busy.  
> There may be spoilerish scenes for Civil War. But, it's AU so they are disguised.

The sun dipped beyond the horizon, it’s light replaced by the amber glow of streetlights. It had been a long day. Music thumped from his ear buds as Steve tried to unwind on his walk home. Tall buildings loomed around him, the alleys he passed were already mostly in shadow. 

A loud rattle startled Steve. He pulled one ear bud out, paused. Hearing it again, he slowly walked towards the next alley. The side door of Dan’s Electronics Emporium was hidden in the dark alley. Two men with shaved heads knelt by the back door, one rattled a spray can.

“Hey!” Steve yelled. Both men froze and looked up. One dropped his can and ran. The other looked Steve dead in the eye, gave him the finger and went back to scrawling ‘Go back to Iraq’ on the door. Red paint rolled down the walls as the letters were slowly forming. 

Dan’s real name was not Dan. Steve knew it was Abdul. When Dan moved here from Syria, he wanted to fit in so he started calling himself Dan. That was twenty years ago. Dan had been an American citizen longer than this ass had been alive.

Pulling out the other ear bud, Steve yelled “Hey!” again, and headed into the alley. The guy looked up and smiled, dropped the can with a metallic klunk. He stood to full height, and he was big, more than a foot taller than Steve. The thug had buzzed black hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. Still smiling the thug reached down and picked up a crowbar. Steve noticed the gauges around the lock on the back door.

Raising the crowbar, he lunged at Steve. Yanked from behind, Steve was thrown to the ground with enough force to knock the glasses from his face. Hands fumbling for them, Steve shoved them back on. Saw a broad man in a hooded sweatshirt locked with the thug. Each had a grip on the crowbar. Shoving around and down, the dude in the hood flipped the thug to the ground with a hard thump. The crowbar clattering away on the asphalt. 

It was a classic take down. Steve’s friend Natasha had been trying to teach him self defense. He’d seen her do it dozens of times, but he’d never seen it done in a real fight before.

Flipping over, the thug lunged for the crowbar, took a swing at the other guy’s legs. He didn’t connect, but the other guy went down anyways. They rolled on the ground for the crowbar, struggling and hitting. Finally, hoodie guy got the upper hand. Stood, crowbar in his fist. 

Sirens approached. The thug scrambled to his feet, turned and ran down the alley. Jumped the fence and disappeared. On the street, a cop car screeched to a halt, blocked the mouth of the alley. Two cops jumped out, pulled weapons, screamed “Freeze police!” Hoodie guy had his back to them, raised his hands out to his sides. The crowbar was still in his fist, cans of paint at his feet.

Before Steve could open his mouth, the side door jerked open, Abdul popped out yelling “No, No! They went around back! I have video!” he was pointing at a tiny camera set high in the wall near the smashed out light. He waved the cops inside. 

Standing, dusting his knees, Steve was in the middle of saying “Thanks for that,” when hoodie guy blew past him. Tossed the crowbar back into the alley, pulled his hood tighter, then was gone. Steve looked around out on the sidewalk, but the guy had disappeared. 

Another exciting adventure, just trying to make it home from work. He definitely needed to start those self defense classes again.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaring music woke Steve with a start. With a paint crusted hand, he slapped the alarm. Pushing his blond hair back he slipped on his glasses, stumbled out of bed then rushed through the morning shower, and coffee. Holding his mug, he looked over the new painting and smiled. 

Sunlight streamed in the window, and the morning glow cast the painting in a new light. A woman in blue raced through lush green trees towards a castle in the distance, her long brown hair curled and flowed behind her. Romance novel covers may not be ‘high art’ but they paid well enough, and Steve had fun. It gave him a little pocket change, and made life a lot easier. 

On the walk to work, Steve sent a text to the publisher that he would have the painting to them by the next morning. He loved painting, but his day job paid the bills. Actually more important than that, it provided insurance to get to the doctors and buy medicine. He would go broke if he tried to paint full time. 

He heard the chime of an incoming message. Pushing through the door into the store, he checked his phone. It was an email from his friend Natasha, not the publisher. As he closed the message, he bumped into something solid, fumbled and almost dropped his phone. 

As Steve got a grip on his phone, tried to slip it into his bag, the guy said “Sorry,” and stepped out of Steve’s way. Looking up, Steve opened his mouth to say something, but the new guy turned, followed the manager, to disappear back in the stockroom. Annoyed, Steve knew he should be the one to apologize. 

“Temp.”

Steve turned to his left, “Huh?” he asked.

Arnim pushed his thick glasses up, said “New temp,” he looked at Steve, “to shift the stock.” 

The stock room was being reorganized, and the owners didn’t like to pay regular employees overtime. The advantage of working for a small business chain was that you actually knew the guy who owned everything. The disadvantage was that if they were tight with a dollar, you had to fight for raises, and benefits. Steve would bet the temp was even being paid under the table. No benefits, no overtime, no taxes.

Seething with indignation, Steve’s day flew by in a haze. When he started at the small grocery store chain, he liked the family atmosphere. He felt welcome here, and everyone seemed nice. But, like a lot of successful businessmen, Pierce was willing to cut corners if it saved him a dime. Now that Pierce owned four stores, working conditions were much more rigid than when he only had the one. Whenever they needed to do a big project, Pierce would only authorize under the table temps. Unskilled guys to haul and lift, then when the project was done, they got paid cash and left.

During his lunch break, Steve went to find the temp to apologize for running into him. The store room was dusty and hot. Shelves were stacked higher than Steve thought OCEA would approve of. Another employee, Clint was wheeling a pallet of cereal out to the floor, and Steve stepped aside. He couldn’t see the new guy, and wandered around the tight shelving. Up above he heard a thump and a muffled curse. 

Looking up, he saw the new guy, his brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, sweating in the rafters. He had one hand holding a rafter, and another rubbing over his ear. It looked like he had just smacked his head. The temp glanced around, carefully climbed onto the next set of shelves, and began stacking boxes. 

Turning around, Steve ducked out the side door. He guessed this wouldn’t be the best time to start up a conversation. 

A warped wooden picnic bench sat behind the store. Setting his lunch next to a graphic bit of carving, Steve unwrapped his healthy wheat bread sandwich, and baked chips. Arnim always ate smelly sauerkraut and bratwursts he got from the deli down the street. Steve couldn’t eat that kind of stuff, it messed with his stomach, and made him feel ill all day. Even the smell turned his stomach. Thankfully, since they both work the front, they never eat at the same time. 

Checking his watch, Steve saw it was almost time to go back. Heading in, he poked around the stockroom. Temp guy was still at it, this time balanced on top of a ladder. He stood on the very top rung. Even from the floor Steve could see the top two steps were labeled ‘do not stand on.’ 

After a brief internal debate about whether it was safer to distract the guy while on a ladder, or let him finish, Steve walked out. He would tell temp guy to keep safety in mind later. 

After making it all the way to the front, Steve turned around and walked back. Now leaning precariously out, temp guy was hauling boxes closer to the top of the ladder.

“Hey!” Steve yelled. 

Temp guy startled, jerking back. The ladder shifted, slid to the side, the heavy unbalanced top twisting Temp guy as he tried to hold on to the top shelf with his hands. Jumping forward, Steve grabbed the base of the ladder. Tried with every ounce of strength to keep it upright. Instinctively, Temp guy had grabbed onto the boxes in front of him, sending two tumbling to thump hard next to Steve. The boxes missed him by a hair. 

Steve had closed his eyes, and braced against the ladder. Finally, it stabilized, though Steve could feel it rhythmically creak and shudder. 

“Hey,” Steve heard from above. “You okay?”

Looking up, Steve saw the soles of heavy brown boots up close. “Oh,” Steve said, and stepped back giving the guy room to get down. 

“You okay?” He asked again, dropping to the ground. 

“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around.

New guy put his hand on Steve’s shoulder “Geeze, another inch, I woulda hit you.” Steve looked up, “Really sorry about that.” new guy smiled awkwardly, ducked his head down to look Steve in the eyes. His eyes were very blue, “Good thing you caught the ladder, or I woulda broke my legs.”

“Yeah, good thing…” Steve felt guilty. Maybe he should stay away from the new guy before he gets him killed. “You got to watch those top rungs of the ladder.” Steve said “They write those warnings on there for a reason.” Red faced, Steve looked down, wanted to go hide. Way to be an ass Steve, he thought. He felt a squeeze on his shoulder, when he looked up new guy was still smiling.

Letting go of Steve’s shoulder, new guy reached up and massaged his own neck, gave another awkward half smile. Steve watched his bright blue eyes as they looked up the ladder. He shrugged, “Gotta reach the boxes some how.” Then he bent and picked up the brown cardboard box on the floor, shook it. “Hope it’s not broke.”

Steve looked at the label, “I think you’re good, it’s just napkins.” he shrugged “They keep unbreakable stuff up high for exactly this reason.”

“Oh, Cool.” He started to haul the box back up the ladder. 

“Careful up there,” Steve said “and don’t go above the steps with the warnings.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain.” he said from above.

Steve wandered back up front. Spent the rest of the day in a haze. 

That evening, he took the new painting to the publisher personally. It was a tough haul since the thing was almost as big as he was. Sometimes Steve worked on smaller boards. This one however was on canvas. And hauling a big canvas across town could be a chore, but he didn’t trust anyone else to move it. 

As soon as he came home, he pulled out a new canvas. Lost himself painting. He realized he hadn’t slept when he heard birds chirping. Looking out the window, the pink tinged sky was clear. It was dawn already. He would need a lot of coffee this morning. 

Turning around, he stepped back, finally took in the large painting from a distance. A tight sweaty shirt pulled over muscled shoulders. Dark curling hair slipped from a messy bun, as the man in the painting lifted, rising to tiptoes, straining to push a box just out of reach. Long sleeved shirt riding up, exposing skin where jeans ride low. Blue frayed fabric slightly torn, black leather belt holding them on. Steve was definitely keeping this one.

Calculating if it would be worth it to try to sleep for two hours or just stay up, sleep won as soon as he leaned back on the couch. The pre-set alarm’s blaring shocked him awake. Stumbling around looking for the clock, he found it under his dirty t-shirt. Once the alarm was silent, he hauled himself into a cold shower, then made his way to work.

“Are you sick again?” Arnim asked as soon as he entered the building. 

“What? No.” he answered, “just a late night.”

“Well you look terrible. You should sleep more, paint less,” he said turning away. Steve stared at Arnim’s back. He really didn’t like that guy, always sucking up to Pierce. 

The day went by in a haze. Even though Steve was keeping an aye out for new temp guy, he only caught a glimpse of him during lunch. He was high in the rafters again, this time using power tools. Steve immediately slipped back out, afraid he might kill the poor guy if he startled him now. 

After a mind numbing afternoon, Steve made his way home. Stumbling into the apartment, Steve crashed into his bed, then woke to the morning alarm. He opened his eyes and realized he just slept for twelve hours, and he was starved. After a big breakfast, Steve grabbed his bag and locked up the apartment. He was actually early for once, and spotted temp guy standing outside in an alley a block away from the store, eating a sandwich. 

Smiling, Steve extended his hand “Hey man, I don’t think we’ve met formally. It’s Steve.” 

New guy swallowed a big mouthful of sandwich, rubbed his hand on his jeans, then grabbed Steve’s hand giving it a good shake. “Bucky.”  
He said, grimacing when he realized he was still sticky. “Sorry about that.” he held up the peanut butter sandwich. “Breakfast.” then rubbed his hand down his jeans again.

At this point, Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was getting more peanut butter off his hand or adding more on. Tempted to also wipe his hands on his slacks, Steve held off. Yeah, Steve would definitely need to wash his hands before work. 

“You usually eat in the alley?” Steve asked, getting a whiff of something he would rather not smell during breakfast. 

Bucky just shrugged, “You heading in to work?” 

“On my way now. How about you?” 

Checking his watch while stuffing the last bits into his mouth, Bucky nodded. Then holding out his arm, gestured for Steve to lead the way. Steve stepped out of the alley and Bucky fell into step at his side. Looking up, Steve could see that Bucky was smiling down at him while chewing. Steve smiled back. 

They walked into the store together, Bucky turned and gave Steve a salute “Later,” he said, as he headed straight to the back. 

Steve laughed, “Be safe up there,” he said. Without turning, Bucky waved over his shoulder. 

The morning dragged on. When lunch time hit, Steve bought two burgers from the place across the street. When he showed up in the stockroom, he paused glancing around, listening for Bucky. The empty ladder sat propped up next to the shelves. 

He heard a voice yell down “Hey, you know this is a grocery store right?”

Turning, Steve looked up, located Bucky winding between big boxes jammed up in a corner. He was walking on top of the rafters, using the roof for balance. “Holy Crap, That is so unsafe. Come down here.” Steve gasped.

Shimmying over to the ladder, “Boss man wants those old file boxes out of the way.” Bucky came thumping down the ladder making the metal creak with each step.

“Hey whatcha got there?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow.

Without thinking Steve said “I bought us some lunch.” Then Steve suddenly realized how forward that sounded. He just learned the guy’s name this morning. 

Reaching out and taking the bag, Bucky was oblivious to Steve’s sudden color change, as he stared into the bag. He wore a wide smile, and reached inside “Do I smell burgers?” Then he pulled out a fry, stuffed it in his mouth. Pushing the bag back towards Steve, he said “how much do I owe you?”

Holding the crumpled bag, Steve stammered, “No, it’s on me.” Bucky looked up, his wide blue eyes boring into Steve, who added, “You can get lunch another day.”

Half of Bucky’s mouth turned up, “Don’t know how long I’m on this gig. I’ll chip in.” he twisted, fishing out his wallet. It was a big leather thing with a chain hooked to the back of Bucky’s jeans. “How’s five?” he said and pushed the bill at Steve.

Nodding, Steve pocketed the money, headed out the door that led to the picnic table break area. Bucky paused at the door, glanced back in. When Steve looked back to see if he was following, Bucky looked uncertain. 

“Uh, I uh, don’t think I have a lunch break.” he said.

“What?” Steve stared “Of course you have a lunch break. Have you been working straight through?” 

Bucky was still inside the building, he edged closer to the threshold. “Boss man didn’t say.”

“Everybody gets lunch,” Steve insisted. “You work eight hours right?”

Nodding, Bucky stepped out into the alley. “Yeah, eight hours a day.” 

“That means you get lunch. I think it’s the law.” Steve said confidently.

Lowering himself down next to Steve, Bucky looked at the bag again. Steve pulled out Bucky’s burger, handed it to him. Next he flattened the bag and set out the fries on top. When Steve looked up Bucky was wolfing down the burger. Every big bite was followed by a groan. When he caught Steve looking, he laughed. Almost choked. Steve pat his back as he coughed. 

Looking over at Steve, Bucky said “Sorry, It’s a really good burger and I have been busting my butt all morning.” He blushed, putting a hand up swiping some of the dusty sweat from his forehead. 

“It is a good burger. You’re new in town right?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded, “I thought you would like to know the best burgers in town are right across the street.” 

Bucky smiled at Steve and shoved another big bite into his mouth. While he was chewing Nick came out the back door. “What are you doing out here?” he barked. Bucky sprung to his feet. 

“Just getting my lunch,” Steve answered.

“Not you, Rogers.” he growled “I ain’t paying you to sit around.” he said, but Bucky was already on the move. He shoved the last of the burger into his mouth, and hurried inside.

Standing, Steve said “Legally everyone who works eight hours gets a lunch.”

One of Nick’s eyebrows went up, as he turned slamming the door closed behind him. Steve followed them back inside. Bucky was already at the top of the ladder, shoving boxes. Nick had just brought in a pallet loaded down with more file boxes. He was standing next to it with his arms crossed, glaring up. 

“Legally, everyone who works eight hours gets a lunch.” Steve repeated to Nick. 

Turning, Nick did not unfold his arms. He looked at Steve “Rogers, how is this relevant to you.” 

Speaking up from his spot coming down the ladder, Bucky said, “I can stay later.” He stopped at the bottom, stooped and picked up a box that had to weigh a ton. 

Nick smiled, “problem solved.”

Steve saw red “He shouldn’t have to stay later.” he seethed, stepping into Nick’s space even though the guy was more than a foot taller than him.

Bucky set the box on a stack, placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder “Man, it’s okay,” he said, but Steve didn’t blink.

“Steve, I can stay later,” he repeated 

Nick smiled, “Listen to your boy.” he said then turned, leaving Steve to angrily turn on Bucky.

“Why did you let him talk to you like that?” he spat.

Stepping back, Bucky’s eyes widened “Listen, I need the money, okay.” he hefted the box again, started to work his way carefully up the ladder carrying a box that might weigh more than Steve. “Thanks for the burger, Steve.” he said, disappearing into the rafters again. 

Steve stomped back up to the front. He was mad the rest of the day. Steve wanted to give Nick a piece of his mind, but Nick was sticking to his office. At the end of the day, Steve had cooled down a bit. He reluctantly thought he was glad he hadn’t busted into Nick’s office and given him a piece of his mind. It would make Steve feel better, but it didn’t seem to be what Bucky wanted. 

After work, Steve went into the back to check on Bucky. He was back up in the rafters shifting and stacking boxes. Steve waited a while, to see if Bucky would notice him. Bucky looked tired, he was hefting the boxes slower, and covered in sweat. His hands looked shaky. Steve slipped from the store room, went up front and bought a big Gatorade. When he got back into the store room, Bucky was hidden by a stack of boxes. Steve could see his shadow moving around. 

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve shouted. The shadow stopped what it was doing, slowly moved a bit, Bucky edged around a box, looked down and smiled.

“Here,” Steve lobbed the Gatorade up towards Bucky, who easily caught the bottle. “I’m heading out, see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Steve.” he said popping the cap off, and chugging the drink. 

That night all Steve could think about was Nick and Bucky. When he walked in the door, he was about to look up the law about rest breaks when he remembered that Bucky was being paid under the table. Laws did not apply here because it was illegal to begin with. No wonder Nick looked at him like he was an idiot.

Early evening Natasha stopped by. She brought Chinese food, but he was still distracted. They ate supper and she kept asking him if everything was all right. It wasn’t. But what should he say? He had just met Bucky, and shouldn’t be this wound up over him. Steve caught a glimpse of the large painting of Bucky he had moved into his bedroom. Maybe he knew why he was so wound up about this. 

He looked up. Natasha was staring at him. “Do you realize the last half hour you haven’t said a thing? You just stare at the new painting.” She stood up, walked into his bedroom. Steve scrambled after her. She examined the painting “Hot.” she tilted her head, “I like when you paint them facing away. Makes me wish they would turn their head. Which book is this for?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet.” he looked down.

“Well the next hot plumber or hot carpenter seduces the housewife, and you have the perfect cover for them.” She looked back at Steve. “Unless there is a reason this one is in the bedroom?” She lifted an eyebrow.

Turning red, Steve looked scandalized. “It’s just where it ended up. What is wrong with you?” he blurted out. She didn’t know Bucky was a real person, not just something he made up, but Steve couldn’t help turning a darker shade of red. 

“Well, If you don’t want it, I wouldn’t mind if it found it’s way to my bedroom.” she added, winking. 

“No.” Steve blurted out, “It stays here.” 

She just smiled, and went back to the living room. Steve let her pick out a movie. She chose the Disney movie Brave again. He liked it, but they had watched it at least four times this month. Nat liked strong chick movies. He got that. She was a strong woman with a dangerous job. Steve wished he could have become a cop like her. She made a difference. 

As the movie ended, he almost told her about Bucky. Then, he realized there wasn’t much to tell. Could he even tell her about the problem? Did she legally have to look into it? He had never kept anything from her before, he didn’t know what to do. Finally, the movie ended and Nat headed home. Steve fell asleep staring at the painting of Bucky’s back. 

The next morning, on the way to work, Steve glances down an ally, and sees Bucky talking to Arnim. Bucky is leaning against an older black car with a dented fender. Arms crossed, Bucky didn’t seem happy with what Arnim was saying, neither noticed Steve, who edged closer. Arnim was talking about driving a package from the train station, giving directions. 

Bucky looked up, spotting Steve. “I’ll get back with you later, man,” he said to Arnim, who looked annoyed. 

“It needs to be tonight. There is a timetable,” Arnim blurted, spinning on his heel and stomping from the alley.

Bucky wandered down to Steve, “Hey man, What’s up?” Bucky said, then eyeing the bag in Steve’s hand “What’s in the bag?” 

“Not everything is for you.” Steve said indignantly. Then handed Bucky the bag, “I made cookies yesterday,” he said as they fell into step walking towards the store.

Bucky lit up, capturing Steve with one arm around the shoulders and giving him a tug. “You are the best,” he said

Steve stopped, “Listen Bucky, ” he quickly glanced around, realizing he was out on the street. People walked around them. Grabbing Bucky’s arm, he pulled him towards the next alley. “Bucky, Arnim is not a good guy. You need to watch out around him.”

“Steve, I have eyes. That guy is super shady. But it’s easy cash.” he shrugged, “I’m a little short on cash right now.” he said scratching his stubbled chin.

Scowling, Steve said “Just, promise you won’t get involved with Arnim.” 

Smiling, Bucky ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Bring me some more cookies and we might have a deal.” 

Steve laughed. 

When lunch came around, Steve went looking for Bucky. Found Nick hovering, waiting, and Bucky up in the rafters hauling boxes. Steve went across the street, bought chicken strips for Bucky to eat while he worked. 

While Nick watched, Steve climbed up the ladder. It was hard navigating up the ladder holding a bag of lunch, Steve couldn’t comprehend how Bucky did it with a heavy box. 

At the top, Steve made his way across towards Bucky, carefully using his hands to balance. “Hey man,” Steve said holding up the bag. 

Bucky didn’t hear him. When he turned and saw Steve there, he jumped back, stumbled on a box, tottered at the edge. Steve dashed forward, yanked Bucky back, and they fell onto a box, smashing an end and sending files sliding out. They both lie there, wide eyed, hearts beating fast.

“What is going on up there Rogers?” They heard nick yell.

“Nothing, Nothing.” Steve shouted.

“Is Barnes going to have to stay late again?”

“No, No. I’m on my way down.” he hollered, then softly he added, “Buck, I brought you some chicken strips. You can eat it while you work.”

“You got more cookies?” Bucky looked into the bag with a scowl. “I thought you owed me some cookies.”

Shaking his head, Steve said “No. no cookies, just chicken. ”

“Thanks Steve.” he said smiling, then glanced over the edge at Nick. Added, “When you get down, can you throw me some tape? I gotta fix this box.” 

“Sure, man.” when Steve made his way over to the ladder Bucky followed. Held the ladder top still while Steve got on. Bucky never had anyone hold the ladder for him, and Steve was about to protest, when he looked down and saw how high they were. He almost couldn’t take that first step down. He had to close his eyes to take the step.

“Keep your eyes open.” Bucky laughed.

Looking up at Bucky, Steve said “Yeah, Yeah. I’m getting safety advice from you now, huh?”

Bucky laughed the whole time Steve lowered himself down the ladder. When Steve had both feet on the ground, he gave Bucky the finger. 

Bucky laughed again, then disappeared behind the boxes. 

Later that day, Steve was getting ready to head home when he realized he hadn’t given Bucky the tape. He stepped into the back to apologize, when he saw Arnim talking to Bucky. They were in a dark corner, whispering loudly. Suddenly, Arnim turned and quickly walked past Steve. Bucky was leaning back in the corner, his head tipped back staring at the ceiling. Casually, he looked back down, smiled at Steve. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I forgot to bring you the tape.” Steve said.

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Yeah. Nick saw that, threw a roll up to me.” He reached up, rubbed at his shoulder grimacing. There were rings under Bucky’s eyes, and his shoulders were slumped. As he pushed away from the wall, he rotated his shoulder. “This has been one hell of a week,” he said.

Steve was walking towards the front store room door, when Bucky paused.

“See you tomorrow, Steve,” he said, then slowly started up the ladder.

“I thought you were done?” Steve asked Bucky, as he climbed higher.

“Not yet.” he sighed “See you, Steve.” Bucky disappeared at the top of the ladder.

Confused, Steve headed home. It was cold and Steve hurried, wishing he had worn a warmer coat. 

When he got home he found a call from Sam. He wanted to come over and make a new recipe, invite Natasha. Steve called him back, got the ingredient list then checked his cupboards. He needed to head out to the store. Too bad Sam hadn’t called him before he left. 

Putting on a heavy coat, Steve walked down the sidewalk again. The car Bucky was leaning against was still in the alley. Steve slid into the alley, not sure what he was looking for. When he got closer, he looked inside. There was a big green plaid sleeping bag across the back seat. Then he noticed the bruised, bloody knuckled hand, peeking out from underneath. He gasped stepping back, fumbled to pull out his phone. He needed to call 911. There was a body in the car. 

As he started dialing, he saw a shift, and the sleeping bag moved. Not a body. A homeless dude. Steve felt bad. Should he wake the guy up? Give him a couple bucks? Steve had almost become homeless when his mom died. He didn’t even own a car. Thankfully, he had gotten the job at the store. He had a couple of tough months, but everything worked out. 

Reaching into his pocket, Steve realized he had left all his cash home. He just had his card. He would have to give the homeless dude some money on the way back.

While he was in the store, he saw Clint was still there. They started gabbing about new hours, when he got a text from Sam. ‘Where are you?’ 

He grabbed his groceries and hurried home. Found Sam and Nat waiting on him. After supper, Steve remembered the homeless dude. He forgot to get cash too. 

The next morning, Steve went looking for the black car with the dented fender. He almost reached the alley and found Bucky nearby on a bench. He was bundled in a heavy canvas jacket, hair loose around his face. Legs stretched out, his work boots were crossed in front of him. Every breath fogged the air in front of him.

A woman in a pink puffy coat sat on the bench next to Bucky. She jumped up as the Bus approached. Bucky just stretched his arms, yawned. Watched the lady get on the bus, watched Steve approach. Slowly, he worked the kinks out of his back.

Steve stood in front of him, and Bucky looked up. His stubble was almost long enough to be called a beard. He had darker rings under his eyes today, his face was drawn, and it looked like it took effort to smile. His hand came up to push his loose long hair back. Twisting it, he put a tie in to hold it together, then put his arms out across the back of the bench. 

Steve stared mesmerized. Bucky had bloodied knuckles.


	3. Chapter 3

Looking over, Bucky pulled his hand towards himself. “You shoulda seen the other guy.” He deadpanned. 

Steve’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, he didn't know what to say. 

“Sorry, man. It’s okay. I just dropped a crate onto my hand,” he held the scraped hand up for Steve to see, “looks worse than it is.”

“Are you sleeping in your car?” Steve said, point blank.

Bucky’s head jerked up, his face changed, eyebrows together, mouth in a hard frown. Their eyes met and Bucky bit his lip for a second, worked it under his top teeth. He turned, looked away, down the road. “Told you I needed cash.”

Steve sat on the bench next to Bucky, faced him. Bucky looked up, stared into the sky. Taking a shaky breath, Steve whispered, “it was freezing last night.” 

Mouth lifting in a smile that was more like a baring of teeth, a snarl “I noticed.” 

“It’s going to get colder, Buck” Steve’s voice was rising “The weather guy said, the whole week, it’s going to keep getting colder.” 

Jumping to his feet, Bucky yelled, “I can't change the weather!” he put his arms around himself “What do you want me to do about it?” he roared 

Steve looked down at Bucky’s scuffed boots. “Come stay with me.”

“Steve,” Bucky begged “Steve, you don’t even know me. This is a lot different than buying me a couple of cookies.”

“I made the cookies, thank you.” He looked Bucky in the eyes “I bought the lunches.”

Not breaking eye contact, Bucky sat back down on the bench. “What is this Steve?” 

“I’m giving you someplace to come out of the cold.” he said “It can be whatever you need it to be.”

Bucky was searching Steve’s face “You don’t know me.” 

“I know enough.” Steve said.

Bucky sat back, laughed shaking his head. “I could be a serial killer. You think about that?”

“If you were, you would have somewhere warm to sleep. You could sleep in the dead peoples houses, instead of your car.” Steve was watching, waiting for Bucky to say yes. 

Instead, Bucky stood, started to walk to work. Eventually, Steve followed. When they entered the store, Bucky went straight to the stockroom, without a word to Steve. Steve sighed and went to work. 

When it was lunch time, Steve headed into the stock room. 

Bucky was actually on the ground when Steve came in. “Hey, what are you doing down here?” he smiled.

Bucky didn’t smile. He just shrugged. Tried to get a rope around a box of files. The flimsy cardboard dented in the middle where the rope was being cinched.

“Buck, I don’t think that’s going to hold.” Steve said.

Bucky just shrugged again, using a pulley hooked in the rafters, he began to tug the rope. The box made it up about fifteen feet before it split in half, showering them in paper and files. Steve was about to laugh, about to say ‘told you’ when he turned, heard a gasp. Bucky was clutching his chest, gasping and shaking. The rope slid from his fingers, the remains of the box thumping to the floor, as Bucky slid down along with it. Bucky had gone pale, he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Nick came stomping around the corner, saw all of the paper and bellowed “What the hell is going on?” Steve looked up from the ground next to Bucky, and Nick came running over “Did he fall?”

“He just can’t breathe-”

“Barnes got asthma? He need an inhaler?” Nick broke in.

“It doesn’t sound like asthma,” Steve said. Nick dashed across the room, grabbed a bag, held it out, and Steve snatched it.

“Breathe into this,” Steve said trying to put the bag to Bucky’s face. He pushed it away, and as they moved closer, he tried to scramble back. Pushed Steve when he tried to approach again. 

Nick put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “He needs some space.” Nick took the bag from Steve. “Barnes” he barked. “Barnes,” he barked again, then threw the bag towards Bucky, it landed next to his leg. Bucky looked at it. “Put the damn thing over your mouth and breathe into it before I have to call an ambulance.” 

Fumbling for the bag, Bucky held it to his mouth, it was almost too late, he looked like he was about to black out. Nick had his cell phone in his hand started to talk to the dispatcher. Bucky looked up wide eyed, waved at him. Gasped “no ambulance” from within the bag. It sounded more like he was saying ‘no bull’ with all the gasping, but they knew what he meant. 

The bag eventually worked, and Bucky slumped down against a box of cans. He was still panting slightly and looked exhausted. 

Nick stood up, “What is going on in here? I cancelled the ambulance.” He looked around at the mess. “Where did you get the rope and pulley? Why do you have a rope and pulley?” he stooped, scooping files and papers up. Setting them in stacks. 

“It was in the rafters.” Bucky mumbled.

“So you thought it was a better plan.” he shook his head. “Okay, lesson learned. Go back to the old way. Haul them up by hand.”

Bucky sagged again, began to breathe hard. Steve edged closer. 

Bucky gasped “Can’t” 

Nick stood, sheaf of messy papers in his hand. “Why the hell not? You’ve  
been hauling them up there for days.”

Steve slid the bag over Bucky’s face, “Nice even breaths Buck.” Bucky closed his eyes, tried to breathe “That’s it. Nice even breaths.” Steve started to rub circles in Bucky’s back. 

As Bucky’s breathing evened out, he mumbled “I think I pulled something yesterday. I pushed through it all morning, I just can’t do it any more.” 

Nick frowned. “You’re not an actual ‘on the books’ employee. I can’t switch you to light duty on a register with Rogers.” he didn’t look Bucky in the eyes, continued to gather up papers, “Take the afternoon off, see if you can lift boxes again in the morning.” he paused sighed “If not, come back anyways, you hear me. We’ll see what you can do.” Nick looked up. 

Bucky looked dazed, his glazed eyes seemed unfocused. 

“Barnes. I asked if you heard me.” Nick growled.

Bucky looked up, looked at Nick. Nodded yes. Steve knew he had no idea what he was nodding to. He could see it in Bucky’s shocked face. 

Nick obviously wasn’t convinced Bucky knew what to do either. “Repeat after me. I will come back tomorrow morning to do useful work to earn a paycheck.” He stared hard. “I’m waiting…” he asked again.

Just as Steve was about to say something, Bucky shakily said “Come back tomorrow morning to work.” 

“Close enough,” Nick stood, “in the mean time, you two pick up these papers while I get a new box.”

Steve gathered papers while Bucky sat breathing and shaking a little. Now that Steve wasn’t panicking, he noticed Bucky‘s fine tremors. 

Nick dropped a box next to Bucky’s feet. 

Putting the files into the box, Steve said, “Uhm Nick, I’ll need this afternoon off too.” 

Nick frowned extra hard. Steve didn’t think it was possible. “I need you on the register, Rogers.” Nick looked back and forth between Steve and Bucky. “You two are becoming a package deal, is that it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I need the afternoon off,” Steve insisted, while Bucky stared at him. 

“I will see you two in the morning,” Nick stomped out of the room.

Putting the last file into the box, Steve tried to lift it onto a stack of others. It didn’t even budge. Bucky was looking up at him.

“They’re heavy,” Bucky said.

“Wow, I can see that,” Steve stood up “You made it look easy.” 

Smiling, Bucky sat up, “I couldn’t lift my arms over my head after the first day.” 

“But you were still carrying them up there today.”

“As long as I could keep a hold of the box, my legs did most of the lifting.”

“How did you get them off the top of the ladder?” 

“There was a trick to it. The ladder is next to the beam that goes from the top shelf to the roof. I was able to grab that, keep climbing up.”

Steve stooped down, squatting in front of Bucky. He held out his hand. “Come on, you can crash at my place.” 

Slowly, Bucky stood, followed Steve out of the store. They walked back to Bucky’s car, which he drove to Steve’s place. Parked out front, and Steve helped him get out his duffel bag of clothes. Roll up the sleeping bag. 

Bucky carried the duffel bag, hauled it over his good shoulder. Steve carried the sleeping bag Bucky insisted he needed. As they went up the stairs, Steve told Bucky he had extra sheets. Bucky just shrugged. 

Unlocking the front door, Steve showed Bucky around. There wasn’t much to the place. The living room and dining room was one big room. One end had a table with four chairs, more than enough for any dinner party Steve ever had. The other end had the couch, bookcase and TV. There was only one bedroom, and Steve apologized for making Bucky sleep on the couch.

This made Bucky laugh. “I was sleeping in my car, Steve.” 

Steve tried to laugh along, but it sounded fake. 

Bucky wandered over to Steve’s easel in the dining room, looked over his paints. Glancing around he checked the walls, only found a few prints of famous art. “You paint?” Bucky said and Steve nodded. Bucky looked at him for a minute, assessing. He smiled, “you look like an artist.”

“I do?” Steve said, “What does an artist look like?”

Bucky just shrugged, wandered around the room, “you? I guess.” He was heading towards the couch. “Where do you keep your art?” he sat down right next to a bookcase full of copies of Steve’s paintings. Steve walked over to the bookcase, was in the middle of pulling out a book to show Bucky, when Bucky popped up off the couch. 

He walked towards Steve’s room, “Did you paint this?”

The four foot tall painting of Bucky’s back leaned against the wall near the foot of Steve’s bed. Steve saw the essence of Bucky in the painting. It emanated from the canvas, even though the subject faced away. Steve’s face had turned crimson, he stood clutching the book to his chest. 

Tilting his head, Bucky stared at the painting, his eyebrows had come together like he was trying to process what he saw. Reaching up, he put his hand on the bump on his ear. Even though the subject’s face turned away, it looked like Bucky. Same hair, same build, same bump on his ear. Also noticing the tear in the hip of the jeans, Bucky reached out and almost touched the canvas. His hand hovered there for a second, before pulling it back. 

Softly, Bucky whispered, “Why do you work in a grocery store?”

Steve smiled, shrugged, “Insurance?” 

Raising his head and taking a look around, Bucky’s eyebrows went up. Steve cringed, Bucky was in his bedroom with his unmade bed, clothes on the floor, books covering the nightstand. 

“I just let myself into your bedroom,” he winced, made an awkward face.

“It’s okay, I guess you’ll be living here,” Steve stammered “So, it’s okay.”

“Is this the only painting you kept? You have a fancy art gallery somewhere?”

“Actually, I’m more of an illustrator,” Steve answered, but Bucky looked confused. “I paint for a publisher, I make covers.” Steve held out the book.

Taking the book, Bucky looked at the cover, then back at the painting leaning against the wall. He smiled at them, “I wish I had a talent like this.” he said, handing Steve back the book. 

Returning to the living room, Bucky looked down at his duffel bag. “You don’t have a washer do you?” he asked, putting his finger in the hole in his hip. “I think I been wearing these jeans long enough they can walk on their own.” 

Laughing, Steve led Bucky to a folding door, slid them back to show a small washer dryer set. Stretching up on tiptoes, Steve dragged down the detergent, and dryer sheets. “Here you go, Buck. But, the machine is kinda small, you have to be careful not to overload it.”

Giving another salute, Bucky said “Don’t break the machine. Got it.”

They went back to the living room, as Bucky rummaged through his duffel of clothes to make a laundry load, Steve spoke, “Any time you need to use the shower, feel free. You don’t have to ask.”

Lifting his right arm, Bucky gave himself a whiff, “You saying I stink?”

Raising his hands in front of him, Steve stammered “You smell fine Buck considering…”

“Considering?” Bucky cut in.

“I mean you were living in your car …” Steve could feel his face turning red. He was digging himself into a hole, so he just stopped talking.

Turning and returning to his laundry, Bucky sorted a white towel, underwear, and light t-shirts into one pile. The jeans and darks he threw into another. Straightening he rubbed at his left shoulder. Pulled the arm in close.

“Have you taken anything for it?” Steve asked “Should we put ice on it? Or, is it heat? I get those mixed up.”

“I guess I could take something. I took a bunch of aspirin before work this morning,” he reached into his duffel and pulled out a small pencil box. It held a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb and bottle of generic aspirin. 

Stepping closer Steve watched him pop the top off, “Hang on,” he interrupted “If you have a pulled muscle, is aspirin the best remedy?”

“I don’t know Steve. It’s what I got.” Bucky looked over, holding the bottle.

“Yeah, well I have a medicine cabinet that’s pretty well stocked.” Steve said wandering to his laptop left sitting on a side table. Sitting on the couch he dragged the laptop over, woke it and typed in questions about sprained muscles. It turns out ice and ibuprofen were recommended by the internet. It also said to rest. Bucky hovered over his shoulder as he read.

“Lie down,” Steve said. “It said to rest.”

“I have to put the laundry in the washer.” Bucky protested. 

“Lets get you started with ice.” Steve was up and on his way to the kitchen. “I can put the laundry in later.” Steve said.

Lying back onto the couch, and kicking off his boots, Bucky rubbed at his shoulder again. He tugged his hair from the messy bun, let it fall. Put the tie  
around his wrist. Steve returned with a towel wrapped around a baggie of ice. 

“Hold that,” Steve said. Taking the ice, Bucky held it to his shoulder, closed his eyes. “It stays on ten minutes, then off for twenty.”

Bucky rubbed the ice around to the back. Held it there. 

“You need two?” Steve walked off without waiting for an answer. Came back after a few minutes with another bag of ice. “Here you go,” Steve said holding it out.

When Bucky didn’t stir, Steve cleared his throat, waited a second, then realized Bucky was asleep. He gently placed the ice on the front of his shoulder, then crept from the room. 

Steve spent the next ten minutes getting ibuprofen, a glass of water, then loading up the washer. He had to divide Bucky’s loads in half. In his tiny washer it would mean at least four loads. Steve went a little heavy on the detergent. Bucky wasn’t stinky, but his laundry was ripe. It would make sense with the way he was sweating up in the rafters. Looking over, Steve wondered how he stayed clean. 

After ten minutes were up, Steve came back to the couch. Took the icepack, then putting his hand on his arm, tried to rouse Bucky. Waking with a jerk, Bucky looked around, disoriented. Finally focusing on Steve, he reached out to take the ice. “Thanks, man.”

“Actually, give me the one under you, so I can put it back in the freezer.” Steve said. 

Bucky shifted, sitting up, frowned, pulled out the ice, and handed it over. Picking up the glass, Steve put the tiny pills in Bucky’s hand. Bucky followed them with the entire glass of water. Nodding, Steve said “go back to sleep, I’ll wake you to put the ice on again.” 

Slumping down onto his side on the couch, Bucky kicked off his boots, pulled his socked feet up, curled into a ball. Slipping into sleep almost instantly, he began to gently snore.

Steve wandered back to the laundry. The load had finished and he threw it into the dryer. Grabbing the next load, He looked down and realized that no one went through Bucky’s pockets. Instinctively, he started to empty the pockets. He pulled out one bottle cap, one receipt, a rubber band, a tiny blue happy meal toy, and a rock. Gathering the junk into a pile, Steve set it aside. It was up to Bucky to decide what was trash.

Returning to the living room, Steve found Bucky sprawled out. He was now lying on his stomach, left hand tucked under him, and right hand over his head. His left leg was bent, but the right was almost straight, and his foot was pushing a lamp to the edge of the end table. Quickly, Steve rescued the lamp, setting it on the floor behind the table. 

It was just in the nick of time, because Bucky made a snorting grumbling sound, then kicked the right foot further out as he shifted. The lamp would have been a goner. 

Settling into his comfy chair, Steve grabbed his sketchbook, and started to draw. He had another assignment, and made the rough plans, sketched out ideas. Next, he sketched Castles, mountains, rolling countryside, nothing seemed to fit. Before long, he had about fifteen sketches of various parts of Bucky. Detailed sketches of long legs in many positions. Hands relaxed, or balled into fists. Socked feet, from the front and back. Like clockwork, Steve woke him to put on the ice, woke him to take it away. Put more loads of laundry in, and took more out. Before long, Steve had pages filled, and a pile of clean laundry on the dining room table. Steve had washed everything, Bucky would have to fold his own clothes. 

Turning on a lamp, Steve realized the light had changed. He should start supper. He set his sketchbook on the coffee table and went into the kitchen.

The smell of spaghetti sauce filled the apartment. Steve was busy cutting up a carrot for the salad, when Bucky woke. He came wandering into the small kitchen scratching the back of his head. 

“I have the water boiling, but I haven’t put the noodles in, if you want to take a quick shower.” Steve said looking up. 

Without a word, Bucky nodded, turned to go.

“Your clean clothes are on the table.” Steve yelled at Bucky’s retreating back.

Rummaging through the pile, Bucky pulled out clean clothes, then disappeared into the bathroom. Steve could hear the shower start up across the small apartment. 

Finishing the salad, Steve gathered the utensils. Set them on one side of the table and shoved all of Bucky’s clothes to the other, then returned to the kitchen. 

There was a thump at his door, then a knocking. 

Wiping his hands off, Steve answered the door. Natasha stood on the other side, with a pizza, and a stack of DVDs. She smiled, “Are you making pasta?”

Stepping back, Steve let her in. Inside she stopped and listened, turned, looked at the duffel bag next to the couch, the pile of laundry on the table. She looked back at Steve, pizza in hand, eyebrows up. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, uh, It’s cool,” he smiled timidly, “You should know, I have a friend staying over.”

“What friend? I know all your friends.” She frowned.

“Well, um…” Steve said when the door to the bathroom popped open, a cloud of steam billowing into the room. Bucky stepped out, his wet hair curled around his neck, leaving a dark patch around the back of a navy long sleeve t-shirt. 

Handing the pizza to Steve, Natasha held out her hand “hello there.” Bucky’s eyes got wide. His eyes started at her face, drifted slowly down to her feet then up again. She winked when he was looking her in the eye again. “I’m Nat, I brought pizza. I didn’t know Steve was cooking,” she glanced over at Steve, “he never cooks for me.”

Turning red, Steve, heard the buzzer, set the pizza on the counter and fled into the kitchen to drain the pasta. 

Eye’s on the kitchen doorway, “Uhm, It’s Bucky,” He said folding his arms in front of him. Looking down, he realized his clothes including his underwear, was sitting on the table. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing up a pile. He pulled the duffel bag open, and dumped everything into the end. When he grabbed up another armful, Natasha helped with what was left. She followed him to the bag. “Thanks,” Bucky mumbled as he was stuffing the last of the clothes back into the bag. 

Popping his head back into the room, Steve said “Hey Nat, can you help with these dishes.” Then went back to working in the kitchen. 

She followed Steve into the Kitchen, then leaned in and said “Now, I know what the painting looks like from the front.” and she winked. “Make me one too. But, have mine face the viewer,” she said walking back to the table with a stack of dishes and silverware. 

Blushing again, Steve took a minute to compose himself, setting the salads in a row, and the pasta into bowls. Natasha came back for the salads, “Is he usually this quiet?” she asked. This surprised Steve, he didn’t think of Bucky as quiet. Maybe he was.

The dinner conversation was mostly one sided, Natasha told about her day, and asked about theirs. Steve told her that Bucky got hurt at the store, but not the part about him living in his car. Bucky worked through his salad, pasta and a large part of the pizza like it was his job. Occasionally he looked up and grunted an answer when asked a direct question, but otherwise he was focused on the food. 

After supper, Natasha said, “I’m more tired than I thought.”

Which Steve knew was a lie, but she slipped out with a wave and a smile, leaving Bucky standing a the table. Walking her to the door, Steve locked the door behind her. 

Immediately, Bucky spoke “Oh man, I am so sorry. I kinda panicked, when your girlfriend got here. Next time, you give me a code or something. I can go to the bookstore down the street, they stay open till nine.”

“What?” Steve asked, while picking up the plates. “I’m not dating Natasha.” Steve said.

Gathering silverware, Bucky looked up, “Really? You have a girl that hot over here regularly, and you’re just her friend?”

“Yeah, she’s really pretty, but…” Steve shrugged. 

Eyes widening, Bucky gasped, “have you at least tried?” 

Shoving the plates onto the counter, Steve turned, “tried what?”

Hands full of forks and cups, Bucky shrugged, “you know? To put a move on her.”

Steve just shook his head and walked away. While he was packing the leftovers into containers, Bucky wandered in and loaded the dishwasher, he kept glancing over at Steve. 

Setting the leftovers in the fridge, Steve pulled out the two bags of ice, wrapped them back into towels, then handed them to Bucky. 

“Go lie on the couch,” he said.

Bucky nodded, then headed back to the couch. Finishing up in the kitchen, Steve returned with another glass of water and more ibuprofen. Bucky was sitting on the couch thumbing through the sketchbook. Steve reddened, and Bucky froze. 

“You left it open on the coffee table,” Bucky ducked his head. “That’s some amazing stuff in there. You make it look effortless. I wish I could draw like that.”

Half smiling, Steve stammered, “It’s okay. I wish I could do it full time. I would paint all day if I could.” Bucky looked up and they smiled, “But, I gotta pay the bills.”

“These are me, right? My legs and stuff?” he ran his fingers over the sketches, still smiling. 

“Yeah,” Steve moved to sit next to him, set down the water and pills. 

Flipping to the front of the book, Steve showed Bucky pages of landscapes, forests, city streets, people. Some faces Bucky recognized like Natasha, or Nick from the store. 

There were many of the same woman, all angles, all emotions, laughing, reading, crying. “This is my mom.” Steve said as he turned the pages, showed page after page of a woman with light eyes and blond hair.

“You look like her,” Bucky said studying Steve and the drawings. “She must be proud.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “She was.” he looked Bucky in the eyes, “she passed when I was nineteen.”

“Oh, I…” Bucky paused, “I’m sorry, Steve,” he said softly.

They thumbed through the rest of the book, then Steve noticed Bucky rubbing his shoulder again. “What is wrong with us?” Bucky’s head snapped up at that. “The ibuprofen…” Steve slid the pills to Bucky, who laughed and swallowed them dry. Steve pushed the water at him. He then took a few sips and set the glass back on the coffee table. Bucky grabbed the ice from the floor, and settled back on the couch with a groan. His feet were still on the floor, legs wide, knee pushing against the side of Steve’s leg. 

Turning, Steve asked, “Does it hurt a lot, or just ache?” 

“It mostly aches. The ice and pills have been helping. Now, I can almost lift my arm up.” Bucky lifted his elbow out, it made it halfway to shoulder height before he grimaced, lowered it back down. “It’s been a while since I have had to do so much lifting.” 

“Do you need to see a doctor?” Steve asked. 

“Do you have a free one you know of?” Bucky smirked.

“If I knew any free doctors, I would paint full time.” Steve smiled.

Bucky gave a tired laugh, slumped further back into the cushions. Let his head tip back, exposing his neck. Steve watched the way the short beard trailed off near his Adam’s apple. Noted the lines of his neck, the way the hair curled under his ear. He may have been staring. 

Rolling his head at an angle, Bucky glanced down at Steve. Readjusted the ice on his shoulder. Then slipped his hand down to readjust his pants. As Bucky began to pull his hand away, Steve put his hand over Bucky’s, looked Bucky in the eyes. Bucky leaned in for a long slow kiss. When they parted he swallowed thickly, took Steve’s hand and slid it to the front of his pants. Steve slipped to his knees between Bucky’s thighs, looked up at Bucky, waiting. 

Eyes widening, Bucky licked his lip, threaded his hand through Steve’s soft blond hair. He gave a slow nod and shifted his hand to the back of Steve’s head, didn’t push, just rested it there. Steve moved closer, slowly pulled the zipper down. Bucky gasped, shifted his hips. Stroking over his dark briefs, Steve heard Bucky’s breathing get louder. Rubbing the soft material, Steve slid his hands up over Bucky’s stomach. Lifting his hips again, Bucky fumbled the icepack. 

It tumbled free from the towel, bag of ice and freezing water, landed in his lap. He gasped and jerked, tossing it to the side. Steve laughed, leaned in peeled the underwear from Bucky. Hooked the elastic down with his thumbs, then licked up the shaft. 

Bucky groaned. His hands were now fisted next to him, his hips had begun to writhe. Steve could see his breathing had become strained, heard soft moans with every breath. Finally, after teasing licks and rubbing thumbs, Steve took the head in his mouth. Bucky’s fist thumped the couch next to him. Steve knew what to do, and set to work. Had Bucky moaning and cursing the whole time. Steve didn’t let up when he knew Bucky was close. Kept at it till Bucky went rigid, then boneless and groaning. 

Moving back up to sit next to him, Steve sat on the couch. Bucky took Steve by the hips, pulled Steve closer, and leaned in. Mouthed at Steve‘s neck. Moving backwards to make room, Bucky tried to get Steve to lie back. He pawed at Steve’s button, but Steve pushed him back. Slipped off the couch, left Bucky confused. 

“Just get some sleep.” Steve said. 

Sleepily, Bucky hummed then shrugged. Pulled his pants back up, then lie down and drifted off immediately.

Grabbing another canvas from his bedroom closet, he brought his easel, and paints into the bedroom. Glanced out the bedroom. He could see the couch from the bedroom door. Bucky slept like the dead. One arm flung over his head, the other rested across his chest. Miles of long legs. One slightly bent, foot wedged into the corner. The other draped over the arm of the couch, foot dangling mid air. Dark thick hair fanned out on a pillow, and his expression was peaceful.

Within minutes he had Bucky’s sleeping form roughed in. The lack of light in the living room made the painting dark. Features obscured by shadows, his reclining form held a classical pose. The bedroom light spilled over his arm and chest, shirt still lifted, exposing a strip of stomach. Only the small lit section was detailed, the rest lost in shadow. 

Adding the finishing touches, Steve looked over at the clock. It was just past midnight. A finished painting and a full night’s sleep. Steve was on top of the world. 

Steve was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

The blaring alarm sent Steve into the shower in a blurry haze. He emerged to the smell of coffee, and Bucky standing in his bedroom doorway staring at the painting. As Steve brushed past him, Bucky spoke.

“That’s why you wanted me here. Isn’t it?” Bucky said dryly. “You just needed a free model.”

Steve laughed, toweling off, pulling underwear from his drawers. Looking over his shoulder, Steve asked, “You ready for work?” 

“No,” Bucky said as he headed into the bathroom, “gimme a half hour.”

Dressed and ready, Steve crunched through a bowl of cereal and stared at a cup of coffee. Bucky set down next to him, and Steve glanced over. 

“You don’t seem like a morning guy,” Bucky mumbled, blowing on his coffee. 

“Nope,” Steve said, still eating. 

“Too bad we can’t get everyone to start their day at noon.” Bucky groused.

“I used to work afternoons thru evening,” Steve looked up. “It isn’t better, it just shifts when I’m grouchy to a later hour.” 

The walk to the store was quiet. Steve was watching Bucky, but Bucky’s eyes were far away. 

As they approached the store, Bucky paused. He scuffed the toe of his boot, “If Nick cuts me loose, I’ll get another job. You don’t have to pay my bills or anything. I’ll get something.”

Steve looked up, “You have bills?” came out of his mouth, and he regretted it immediately when Bucky’s head snapped up, eyes narrowed.

“I’ve got a phone, and insurance, and, and I eat…” he stammered, trying to think of the places his money went. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Steve tried to jump in.

“I have to buy gas, and pay for the tags on the car…” He rolled right over Steve, gasped a big breath, then bent double. Steve saw the panic attack coming, and felt helpless to stop it. 

“Sorry, I just meant where do your bills go? Can you just breathe.” 

Another loud breath and Bucky shuddered “Crap, I gotta pay for the post office box. I need this job,” he loudly sucked in more air. People walking past were staring, and Steve tried to steer Bucky into the doorway to the Nail Salon they were standing outside. A petite woman was on the other side of the glass door. She looked afraid. Bucky started to clutch at his chest, he couldn’t get enough air, Steve looked at the woman. 

“Please, do you have a paper bag?” he yelled through the door. Steve had asthma his whole life, he knew how quickly fear crept in when it was hard to breathe. The door behind them popped open, the woman handed Steve a bag. Putting a hand on Bucky’s back, Steve held the bag in front of him. 

Squatting and breathing into the bag, Bucky soon calmed down. He looked up  
at Steve “I made you late.” he said into the bag. 

“It’s okay, I’m never late. Grumpy in the mornings, but not late. They won’t hold it against me.” Steve smiled. 

Using the wall to get up, Bucky tried to get back to his feet. Steve helped him, then smiled at the woman still hovering in the doorway. 

She looked at Steve, “Is he going to be okay?” 

Steve smiled at her, said “Yes Ma’am.” Bucky gave a shaky smile and nodded also. 

Slowly they walked to the store. Nick came up to them as soon as they were through the door. He shook his head, “Why are you on the street creating a scene Barnes?” he grumbled, then, “How well do you know your alphabet?” Nick led Bucky to the back.

Steve stood staring, heard Nick yell from the back, “Get to work, Rogers. If you’re late again, I dock your pay.”

Grumbling, Steve got to work. 

When he finally had his lunch break, Steve headed into the back. He looked everywhere, but couldn’t find Bucky. He hadn’t thought he would have just left. But, he might have been too embarrassed to walk through all the other employees to tell Steve. He might have felt it was easier to just leave. Steve felt like there was a stone in the pit of his stomach, he approached Nick’s office to ask about Bucky. Knocking, he heard Nick yell, “Come in.” 

Inside, Steve stopped in his tracks. Bucky was sitting at a tiny table, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, a pencil stuck over his ear, with a stack of files in front of him. He looked up when Steve came in, Smiled wide. 

Steve had a small bag with their lunch clutched in his hand. 

“Where’s mine, Rogers?” Nick said.

Steve stammered, “I can, I can … You can have one.”

“Go, Rogers. Take this guy with you.” he grumbled “And Barnes, when you come back, do not start singing the alphabet with every file again.”

As they walked out Steve said, “So Nick had something for you to do.”

“Yeah, the files I dropped needed to be resorted. Plus, he has a bunch of receipts and stuff that needs to be put in the computer.”

“You can do that?” Steve smiled over at him.

“Yeah, I’m okay with computers.” Bucky had been smiling the whole time. 

After Lunch they separated, to meet again for the walk home. Steve waited out back at the lunch table till Bucky was ready to head home. Finally, Steve saw Bucky poke his head out. 

Carrying a grocery bag, he stepped outside. “Hey, you ready to head home?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” Steve answered, “what’s in the bag?”

“Nick paid me for the past few days. I bought some groceries.” he smiled.

Steve stood “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

Eyebrows coming down, Bucky looked at Steve “I eat a lot Steve, I need to contribute.” as they walked out Bucky continued, “and we gotta talk man.”

Steve’s head snapped up. 

“I’m gonna pull my weight.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I need to pay rent.”

“You’re sleeping on my couch, that’s not exactly something you pay for.” Steve protested.

“I can contribute,” he added, his smile had dropped, he looked serious.

“Well, you’re carrying a big bag of groceries, that helps.” 

Bucky ducked his head, looked over at Steve “I can fix supper tonight,” he said.

“Deal. You can cook every other night,” Steve smiled.

Once they were in the apartment, Bucky looked a lot less confident. He bought a chicken. Not pre cut up chicken pieces, a whole chicken, because it was cheaper. He also bought potatoes and carrots. Steve could see he had a plan in mind, but once he was left alone in the kitchen, he spent a lot of time staring at the chicken. 

Taking pity on him, Steve looked up how to cook a chicken on the internet. Bucky was grateful, watched the video three times. Steve had been afraid Bucky would be insulted, but he just looked relieved. It wasn’t long before the apartment smelled like a baking a chicken with potatoes and carrots. 

It made Steve’s stomach growl from his easel. He had figured out a good design for the new commission, and had run with it. He was covered in paint when Bucky stood in the doorway and knocked on the frame.

Leaning on the frame, he said, “I took out the chicken and it’s resting, like they say in the video. We can eat whenever you’re ready.”

Steve looked up. “Have you iced your shoulder since we’ve been home.” 

Bucky reached up to rub his shoulder. Shrugged and said “Nope, It’s a lot better today. I took some more ibuprofen earlier.” 

Steve’s eyebrows lowered, he looked Bucky over. “You should go ahead and ice it anyways, while I clean up.” 

Bucky shrugged and left. Steve painted till he reached a stopping point, then cleaned up his paints and brushes. It actually took close to an hour, and Bucky was asleep sitting up on the couch when he came out. There was an icepack on the front and back of his shoulder. 

Steve nudged him, “Buck?” 

Bucky blinked awake. Looked unfocused and dazed. 

“Lets get those ice packs off,” Steve said, “and I’m starved. Sorry clean up took so long.”

Bucky looked back into the kitchen, stood and moved back towards the bird on the counter. He picked up a big carving knife, carefully sawed at the leg, pulled apart the bird a piece at a time. 

“Shit,” Bucky growled. 

Steve came over to see, “Did you cut yourself?” he asked.

“No. there was supposed to be a bag of crap to throw away inside. You know like hearts and stuff.”

“Did you forget?” 

“No I got it, I don’t know what this shit is.” he pulled another mystery object from the bird.

“I think it’s the neck?” Steve looked questioning. 

“You think the bird’s okay to eat?” Bucky wore a frown now. 

“Yeah, Buck. You can eat the neck too.”

He looked at it for a second, “It looks disgusting.” 

“I didn’t say you have to eat it.” Steve laughed “Just pitch it.”

There were no further complications during their dinner. Steve thought the chicken and veggies was amazing, and raved about it. Bucky smiled and laughed every time Steve complimented him. 

After the dishes, they moved to the couch where Bucky iced his shoulder and read, and Steve watched a movie. Bucky had actually started to read one of the romance novels that Steve had on the shelf while he was waiting for Steve to clean up. It turns out Bucky was an avid reader. Steve had never actually read most of the stuff on his shelves. Steve preferred biographies, or history. 

The movie Steve was watching was full of car chases and explosions, but Bucky was glued to the book. Turning, Steve asked “I guess you like books.”

“Yeah, It’s good I really knew my way around libraries before I had to live in my car.” he looked up at Steve “That’s where I clean up. They think the back pack is full of books, but I keep a towel and my kit in there too.”

“Your kit?”

“Yeah, you know… razor, shaving cream, washcloth, deodorant, toothpaste.”

“Wait you shave?” 

“Ha, Ha.” he deadpanned “I shaved.” He rubbed his beard, “But it’s easier to let it grow. Less time in the restroom. No suspicious stubble left in the sink.”

Steve looked Bucky in the eyes, moved closer. Bucky looked Steve up and down. “Have you read this thing?” he asked holding up the book. 

Steve looked over, “No, I just paint something that fit’s the summary.” 

Bucky pulled the book to him, Fanned through the pages. “I’m half way through, and so far these people these people have fucked fifteen times. This dude is supposed to be a pirate or something. The first time they go at it, I was like woah, I thought romance books, had like romance. But, man was I wrong.” he laughed. 

“You want romance?” Steve asked, moving closer. Bucky looked back at Steve, reached up and touched Steve’s soft blond hair. His mouth opened a little but only a faint shaky exhale came out. Steve turned his head into the touch, mouthed at Bucky’s thumb. Bucky ran his tongue over his bottom lip while watching. Voice pitched low, Steve said “I can give you romance. I can buy you flowers or take you to fancy dinners. Is that what you want?”

Pulling his hand back, Bucky’s mouth closed with a snap. “What?” He frowned “Steve, I don’t want you buying me stuff.”

Steve sat up, nodded, then looked back up at Bucky “I guess it’s good the best stuff is free.” His hand slipped under the hem of Bucky’s shirt. Stroked his stomach, and Bucky shivered. Sliding his hand higher, Steve felt Bucky grab his wrist. Hold it for a second, as they looked into each others eyes. 

Moving forward, Bucky leaned in for a kiss. It was hesitant at first, then he started biting and licking. His transformation from hesitant to fierce was almost instant. He pushed Steve onto his back, spent a while sucking bruises into Steve’s neck while grinding down with his hips. Steve kept sliding his hands under Bucky’s shirt, but Bucky would always find them, push them lower. 

Instinctively, Steve found the button on Bucky’s jeans. Popping it open, he slipped his hand inside, cupping and squeezing, Bucky rocked into his hand. He gasped and moaned into Steve’s shoulder, lips no longer kissing, just mouthing at Steve’s neck. It wasn’t long before, Bucky was pushing Steve’s hand back out. Steve took the time to strip his shirt off, while he watched Bucky shuck both jeans and underwear. When Bucky slid back up Steve’s body, Steve was in the middle of pushing his own pants down. Kneeling on the couch, Bucky grabbed Steve’s waist band and pulled. Got the pants down to Steve’s knees. Steve was hard already. Looking up, Bucky timidly smiled at Steve, and Steve could see the hesitance there. The bare hint of a smile looked forced, his eyes were a little too wide. 

Steve reached down, grabbed a handful of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him back up. They started kissing again, fevered and manic. Grinding and pushing. Steve writhed out from under Bucky, switched their positions, and sat on Bucky’s lap. Looking down he gave a few hard grinds. Bucky’s eyes closed and he shuddered, flung his right hand over his head to grab the arm of the couch in a white knuckled twisting grip. His left hand stayed on Steve’s hip, firm and squeezing. Not controlling Steve’s movement, but holding on. 

Grinding a few more times, Steve had Bucky moaning. Without a word, Steve slid down Bucky, licking and sucking. Within seconds he had Bucky writhing again. Straining, Bucky’s hard grip made the couch creak, Steve prayed it wouldn’t break, but he didn’t stop. 

Back bowing, Bucky froze, a silent moment of clenching muscles while he came, then he slumped down breathing hard. Leaning back, Steve took himself in hand. Finished with a loud groan, spattering Bucky’s stomach. Staring, Steve watched Bucky look at him with a lazy wicked smile. Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s hips, his stomach, watched his eyes drift closed. They had stained the hem of Bucky’s shirt, and Steve moved to pull it off. Bucky just pushed his hands away again. 

With a shrug, Steve kicked his pants out of he way, then went into the bathroom to clean up. When he came back, Bucky was out cold. While Steve cleaned him up, he didn’t wake, he just hummed, and shifted around. Steve blotted the hem of the shirt with a washcloth. Then went back to his bedroom to find clean sweats to sleep in. 

In his bedroom his phone chimed. He looked and found six missed messages and two missed calls. The texts were all from Nat and just said ‘call me.’

Quickly, Steve called her back, moving to close the door to not wake Bucky. 

Answering immediately, “Is he still at your house?” 

“What?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling cold. 

“Barnes. Is he still there?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Steve you don’t want to get involved with this.” Her voice sounded firm. Work voice. 

Mad, Steve growled, “Did you run a background check on him?” 

“Yes, Steve I did. I care about you, and I did.” 

That didn’t curb his anger, “Why?”

She was angry too, “Because of stuff like this. Lot’s of people are shit, Steve.”

Turning defensive, Steve said, “Maybe he turned a new leaf. He seems like he’s trying.”

“Trying not to murder innocent people?” she growled.

“Murder? he has a record for murder?” Steve gasped looking back at the flimsy apartment door between him and a killer, “is it in his file?”

“Not just his file. It’s on the internet. James Buchanan Barnes,” she said  
sadly, “he did a lot of really bad things Steve. I’m sorry-”

“I…I gotta go.” Steve said, hanging up. Standing, he tiptoed to the door, and locked it with a click. His laptop was in the living room, but thankfully his tablet was on the nightstand. 

Within seconds, he found pages and pages on the court-marshal of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, more details on Bucky's captivity & Non graphic child death.

Four hours later, Steve took off his glasses. They wouldn’t help anyways, he was way past that. He could barely focus on the screen. He had read so many articles, now he just scrolled past photo after photo of Bucky. Many had clear images of the dashing soldier in his dress blues right next to a photo of a haggard bruised Bucky in an orange jumpsuit, his left arm in a sling. 

It broke Steve’s heart to see the terrible difference. Both photos were so different than the man sleeping in the other room. Within each photo Steve saw Bucky’s blue eyes and expressive mouth. In his dress blues, his mouth looked on the verge of a smirk, eyes sparkling. In the orange, he looked so tired, mouth turned down in a frown his blue eyes looked blank. He looked defeated. 

The worst part was the articles. The media machine started slowly. Only a few articles in the beginning. It happened during a combat mission, Bucky was captured in an ambush. Hoping he was still alive, the military continued looking for him. Articles about his heroism during the ambush were published. It took the military two weeks to find Bucky. 

Initial reports were celebratory. Reporters wanted to tell the heroism of the rescuers, Bucky’s fortitude, his weeks of harrowing captivity. The news reports were sensational. Then, the reports turned. Began to tell Bucky’s dark secrets. An anonymous source detailed his time in captivity, the torture he suffered. 

The dam began to crack.

Steve vaguely remembers all this on the news. He doesn’t watch much TV, but it was everywhere. Now, some stranger who was all over the news became an actual person. A person sleeping in his living room. A real human being, who he has talked to, eaten with, touched. Someone he has feelings for.

In his mind he was going back through the facts. Reading things he skimmed over when it happened. Things that never mattered before. Not to him.

It happened on the day before the presidential address. Al Jazeera aired a grainy video filmed on a phone. The insurgents timed the release of the video for maximum damage. 

A bloody bruised Bucky, barely able to sit up without someone holding him, confessed to murder. To killing women, children, babies. Whole families. Disclosing the towns of the massacres. By the next morning, the UN found dead children. Twelve bodies left as detailed by Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes during his torture. 

Sergeant Barnes was on the Twenty-four hour news cycle. Photos of his face flooded the internet, the media outlets, the papers.

The President himself had to hold a press conference. He said that he trusted his military to get to the bottom of this. But the murder of any civilians was reprehensible, especially children. The media circus was fierce after that. Steve had to weed through dozens of articles calling for Bucky’s execution. 

The military held a trial. Bucky refused to testify. Refused to give up any names in his unit. His whole unit was under the gun, but they stuck together. Their mission report files conveniently disappeared. In the end, the military couldn’t figure out who knew what, other than Sergeant James Barnes had direct knowledge. The whole unit was put in for disciplinary measures. 

The angry judge had no evidence specifically against Bucky that wasn’t produced under coercion. He gave Bucky a dishonorable discharge, and sent him to Leavenworth for six months. Military justice is different than civilian justice, sometimes appearance of guilt is enough. With the public crying out for blood, Bucky was the meat thrown to the wolves. 

There were articles detailing Bucky’s weeks of torture, but Steve couldn’t stomach them. He came across the words ‘burns’ and ‘carved flesh’ and closed out the page. 

Tossing his tablet aside. He lie back and wept. 

It didn’t make sense. None of the facts lined up. Steve was convinced Bucky was a good man.

When his alarm went off the next morning, Steve threw it against the wall.

Bucky yelled into his room “Steve? You okay?” from the sound of his voice, Steve could tell he was right outside the door. 

“Yeah.” he yelled back, but it came out croaked and faint.

“Are you coming out? I gotta shower, should I go first?” Bucky said to the door.

“You go ahead.” Steve yelled back.

When he heard the shower run, he slipped out of his room. Saw Bucky’s wallet lying there. Popped it open, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe his real name was something else, and James Buchanan Barnes just looks disturbingly like him. Looking inside, Steve pulled out James Buchanan Barnes’ drivers license. Confirmed it was him. There wasn’t much in the wallet, just a few creased photos, none of Bucky, and a some folded cash. 

Steve didn’t get any new clues about Bucky, and put the wallet back where he found it. He just confirmed that Natasha was right. Steve felt out of his depth. In the movies guys who murder families look cruel. They mock the little guy, they push people around. Bucky had kind eyes and a soft smile. But, maybe mass murderers had kind eyes and soft smiles, that’s how they get people to let them in. 

Steve jumped when the bathroom door jerked open. Bucky came out wet but almost fully dressed. Steve glanced at the way Bucky held the left arm close. It was the one that was in the sling in the photos. It made Steve’s stomach clench as he remembered what he read. 

“Hey, you’re up,” Bucky smiled. “Bathroom’s all yours.” he said, passing Steve to rummage the bag for some socks. Bucky glanced over at Steve a couple of times before he looked up and said “You alright?” 

Nodding, Steve retreated to the bathroom. Inside, he tried to breathe, tried not to have a panic attack himself. Outside he heard a faint knocking. Someone was at the front door. Who would come by right before work? Maybe Bucky had an accomplice, and they would murder him and live in his apartment.

Steve could make out Bucky’s voice, then he heard Natasha. 

Steve jumped out into the living room. Both Bucky and Natasha swung their heads simultaneously to stare at Steve. Natasha was wearing her work clothes, laced up thick leather boots, slacks, suit jacket, and her badge on her belt. Bucky looked pale, his eyes were blank, unfocused. 

Natasha was the first to speak. “I was telling Mr. Barnes that it might be better for everyone, if he went back home. Right, Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky was nodding, looking at the floor. He looked beaten. 

“Sorry, Nat. Buck just got a new position at the store, and where else am I going to get a roommate who will pay his share just for a spot on the couch.” Steve said firmly. “Unless you got someplace you’d rather stay? Buck, It’s up to you.”

Eyes on the floor, Bucky looked up as far as Natasha’s badge before dropping his eyes again. “Steve, I’m not worth all this,” he looked back at Steve, “I can go.”

Steve’s heart sunk. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Steve said firmly “Natasha has no right to ask you to leave.” Steve walked forward. His hair was a mess, his eyes were red and he only had on pajama bottoms and glasses. He was at least a foot shorter than Bucky, and Natasha’s boots gave her a few inches, but he stared both of them down. 

Steve looked at Natasha, said “I think you should go,” and closed the door. He could hear her walk away on the other side.

“She’s only trying to look out for you,” Bucky said softly, his sad eyes were searching Steve’s face. “Steve, you don’t know…”

“Did you kill those kids?” Steve asked. 

Bucky jerked back, looked down. Shook his head no.

“Would you lie to me?” 

Bucky looked back at him, “No.”

“I know enough,” Steve said. He stepped forward, looked Bucky in the eyes. Bucky kept trying to look away, look down. Steve took Bucky’s head between his hands. Looked him in the eyes. Bucky leaned forward rested his forehead against Steve’s and sighed. 

Steve kissed Bucky. A small kiss on the chin, nose then lips. He slipped his hand under the front of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky leaned down, captured Steve’s mouth, turned them around and crowded Steve against the wall. 

“Bed, Now.” Steve barked, and Bucky walked backwards, still kissing. Hand roaming Steve’s exposed skin. His left hand stayed on Steve’s wrist as they walked. When they crossed the threshold, Steve repeated “Bed,” and removed his hand from Bucky’s shirt. 

As Bucky crawled onto the bed, Steve shook his head. “Pants, Barnes. Pants” Bucky flipped over and shucked his pants and underwear in one swift kick. He lie back on the bed staring up at Steve. Steve just stood there at the foot of the bed stroking himself through his sweats. 

“We’re gonna be late for work.” Bucky whispered.

“Not if we skip breakfast. You got a problem with that?” Steve purred.

Bucky shook his head. His hair was damp and loose. His wide eyes stared at Steve, mesmerized by what Steve was doing to the front of his tented pants. Slowly Bucky licked his lips. Palmed himself in a naked mirror image of what Steve was doing. 

“You wanna?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded.

“Roll over.” Steve said, and Bucky blinked once, then flipped over. Steve pushed Bucky’s legs apart, then walked around the bed. Bucky watched him, turning. He bit his lip when he saw Steve pull lube from the nightstand. Steve walked to stand right behind Bucky again. He was just out of Bucky’s line of sight, and Bucky began to roll onto his side to see him. 

Steve grumbled “Did I tell you to roll onto your back?” Bucky took a sharp breath and rolled onto his stomach again. Crawling up behind Bucky, Steve lubed up his fingers, then kneading Bucky’s ass, he slid one inside. Bucky gave a whole body shudder. 

“Man, this is gonna take a while. You ever have anything in there Barnes?” Steve asked as he moved his finger around. Bucky whispered an answer into the sheets. “I didn’t hear you.” Steve said, then hooked his finger right as Bucky tried to answer.

“Louder.” Steve said, then watched Bucky shake his head.

Bucky groaned “No,” then moaned again long and low. 

Steve pulled his finger free, ran his hand over himself and jerked off onto the swell of Bucky’s ass. “I didn’t think so.” he said wiping Bucky’s ass off with a dirty t-shirt. “You’ve never had a cock in your mouth either,” Steve stated, stepping back. 

“When we get home, we’ll have time to do this right.” he gave Buck’s ass a pat. 

Bucky raised up to his elbows, looked back over his shoulder. “What?” His eyebrows were practically in his hairline.

“I’m hitting the shower,” Steve said, then walked off. 

Ten minutes later Steve came out of the shower naked, walked past Bucky sitting fully dressed on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal. Bucky’s eyebrows came together when he saw Steve, and he gripped his spoon. He didn’t say anything, and Steve went into the bedroom, quickly dressed. 

“I guess you had time to eat after all.” Steve said putting on his shoes. Bucky didn’t say anything just continued to chew. His jaw had a twitch.


	6. Chapter 6

Frosty and overcast, the morning was warming up slowly. Their walk to work started in silence. The twitch to Bucky’s jaw hadn’t eased, and Steve would bet he’d have a headache by lunchtime. It reminded Steve about the pain in Bucky’s shoulder.

“Did you take your pills this morning?” Steve asked.

“Forgot” was all he said without even a glance at Steve.

Looking up at Bucky, Steve asked “You have any on you?” 

He shook his head no, then ducked his head against the cold wind. Burrowed his hands deep in his pockets. 

Steve pulled his scarf higher around his face. Steve had bundled up, wore a heavy coat, wool hat, fluffy scarf, thick gloves. Bucky just had the one canvas jacket. This morning he had layered a plaid quilted shirt over his normal Henley and long sleeve t-shirt combo. Instead of gloves, Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. His blue ball cap didn’t seem to be very warm at all. With every wind gust Bucky shivered, and Steve looked over. 

Before they left the apartment, Steve had offered Bucky a warm hat and scarf. He declined the offers. Steve still felt guilty. 

They parted inside the store without a word. Instead of getting Straight to work, Steve went to the pharmacy section and picked up another bottle of ibuprofen. After he paid, he brought it to Bucky in the office. When he looked inside, Bucky was sitting at the computer on Nick’s desk. He had another pencil over his ear. Nick was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, I got you something for your shoulder.” Steve said.

Bucky looked up and smiled, then obviously remembered he was mad because he frowned. “You aren’t supposed to buy me stuff.” he grumbled.

“I use headache medicine too, you jerk.” Steve said “I’ll just put the rest of the bottle in the medicine cabinet when we get home.”

A voice grumbled behind Steve, “Rogers, I’m not liking you hovering in my office door,” Nick said. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” 

Steve set the bottle on the desk, and headed back to the front. As Nick went in, Steve heard him say to Bucky “Take your pills.”

The day flew by. It was close to his lunch time, and Steve was still up front when he watched Bucky leave. A customer distracted Steve, and when he looked up again, Bucky was standing there with two cold sodas. “Do I get the employee discount? Or, should I hand you the cash and you can get them?” 

Steve protested “I can buy the drinks, Buck.” when he saw that Bucky had a bag of burgers from across the street. “Did you get lunch?” he smiled. 

Bucky shrugged, gave a half smile, slid a couple bucks to Steve anyways, and walked to the back. A few minutes later, Steve followed with Bucky’s change. Found Bucky bundled up on the bench out back. Bucky had already eaten half his burger. When Steve sat down, Bucky slid the greasy bag over to him. Steve wolfed down some cold fries. The wind occasionally whipped Bucky’s hair across his face and he had to keep struggling to hold it back or wind up eating it. Eventually he stopped eating, tried to tie it back, tuck it under the hat. 

“Can we eat in your office? It’s warmer there,” Steve asked. 

“It’s not my office,” he shrugged “Nick said, ‘don’t even think about it.’ He must read minds.” 

“We can eat in the stockroom. It’s warm in there.” Steve said.

“Sure, If you want,” Bucky replied, grabbing his burger and soda.

Steve followed with his lunch. They parked themselves on an empty pallet inside the door. Every time Steve looked over, Bucky seemed deep in thought, distracted. His frown had become etched into his face. His eyes focused on the food in front of him. When he finished, he sat in silence. Steve had trouble thinking of anything to say. All he kept thinking about was that Bucky’s clothes should be warmer. He hadn’t seemed prepared for the winter. 

Bucky stayed till Steve finished his food, then fled back to the office. Steve sighed, and hung out on the pallet till it was time for him to go back. The afternoon went by slowly, and when it was time to leave, Bucky was already waiting for him by the door. 

They walked home, and Bucky said, “we shoulda drove.” 

Steve looked over, laughed, “I almost forgot you have a car. Tomorrow you can drive us.”

“Yeah about that,” he paused, stopped walking “Natasha was right. I should go.”

Steve stared, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?” Bucky looked lost. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

“Because I like being around you,” Steve answered honestly, “and I have wanted to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you.”

Buck opened his eyes. They were wide as saucers. Then he laughed, it was a deep surprised laugh that lit up his face. After, he frowned, turned serious. “Hey? Yeah, about this morning. What makes you think I ain’t ever been fucked before?” 

“You have absolutely no poker face Buck,” Steve said, starting to walk home. “You had fear written all over your mug as soon as you saw the lube.” 

Bucky squinted over at him. 

Steve continued, “fear doesn’t do it for me. I want you to beg.” Then he winked at Bucky.

“You think you can make me beg?” Bucky said, voice lowering.

“I guess we’ll see,” Steve answered

Steve half expected Bucky to get handsy when they got home. Instead, as soon as Steve announced that he was cooking dinner, Bucky helped with the plates. Then, retreated to the couch with a book and an ice pack. 

There was a knock at the door, and when Bucky got it, he found Natasha and Sam on the doorstep. Steve was about to get angry, thought they might be ganging up to get Bucky to go. Sam stepped forward with a bowl, and Steve realized they had brought salad, and desert. Bucky took one look at the peach pie and his eyes lit up. Turns out Bucky can be bought with sweets. 

The supper was a little strained, Bucky didn’t say much, and Natasha was being extra nice. Steve couldn’t tell if it was her ‘I’m trying to get information from you’ version of nice, or ‘I want to show I’m a nice person’ version of nice. Either way, it threw off both Sam and Steve. Bucky just looked awkward. 

When Bucky left the table to get plates for the pie at desert, both Sam and Steve hissed, “cut it out.” 

She just gave them the finger, and said, “you wanted me to be nice, I’m being nice.” 

Bucky moaned obscenely when he ate the pie. 

Everyone pretended to get along till after supper, when Sam and Natasha left.

After the door closed Bucky sagged, “I know it’s weird, but all during supper I kept thinking she was going to off me.” 

Steve laughed.

“Don’t laugh,” Bucky continued, “I think she was armed.”

Steve laughed harder “She’s always armed.” he gasped “And, don’t even look in her purse.”

Retreating to the kitchen, Bucky grumbled, “I need ice,” then came back out holding the ice pack to his shoulder. He plopped back onto the couch, picked up his book. 

Steve settled next to him, picked up the remote for the TV. “They still going at it?” he asked looking at the book.

“Oh, Yeah,” he said with relish, “Your friends knocked right as they started. Good thing it wasn’t five minutes later, I wouldn’t have been able to answer the door.” 

“Read it to me,” Steve murmured, hand on Bucky’s leg.

Opening and closing his mouth, Bucky turned red. His wide eyes looked down into the book. “She licked her lips,” he started, and Steve licked his lips. 

Stammering, Bucky continued “ moved…moved closer, could feel his breath on her neck.” Steve moved closer. Bucky fumbled the book, dropped it to the floor with a thump. Steve continued to lean closer, brushed his mouth along Bucky’s neck. Bucky tipped his head to the side, let Steve in. 

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” Steve asked.

Bucky gave a jerky nod, adjusted himself in his jeans. Steve stood, held out his hand. Bucky huffed a laugh and took it. Let Steve lead him into the bedroom. Inside, Steve spun Bucky around, crowding him against the wall. Licking and sucking his neck. Bucky thumped his head back, restless hands moved from Steve’s hips to his back. 

Steve’s hands once again slipped under the hem of Bucky’s shirt. Reached up, rubbed the firm stomach, moved to the chest, before Bucky let go of Steve long enough to push them back down. Steve didn’t take the hint, this time he rubbed over the shirts, Bucky seemed fine with it till Steve hit a sensitive spot near the left shoulder. Bucky jerked a hissed breath, moved Steve’s hands to a new position. 

Steve asked, “does it still hurt?”

“It always hurts,” Bucky said, stepping around and steering Steve to the bed. 

Steve wanted to question, ask about the arm, but Bucky pushed him down onto the bed, was sucking bruises into Steve’s neck while rubbing a firm hand down the front of his pants. 

“Maybe we can start off where I fuck you?” Bucky said.

“Let’s just see how this goes,” Steve slid down, pushed Bucky onto his back, ran his lips over Bucky’s jeans. Gasping and fumbling in his impatience, Bucky tugged his jeans off. Steve sat back and watched him struggle, sliding his own shirt off. Dropping it on the floor. Steve stood and stripped his pants, grabbed the lube from the morning. Bucky was sitting on the bed, still in two shirts and sweating. 

“You have to take a layer off at least, Buck.” Steve said, and Bucky nodded, got tangled in the layers of his shirts. Steve could see it was more important to keep the bottom layer on, than get the top layer off. If Steve hadn’t seen those articles he would have laughed, tried to sneak Bucky out of both shirts. Instead he leaned in to help. 

Bucky flinched back, thinking Steve was trying to get him naked, “I got it.” he said, then stopped. His shaky hands stilled on the hem. He looked up, stared Steve in the eyes for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” he blushed and looked away “I get it. I know I’m fucked up.” he swallowed hard. “You want to fuck, and I won’t take my shirt off,” He barked a humorless laugh.

“You can keep it on, Buck. I won’t make you take it off.” Steve said taking Bucky’s hand from his hem, trying to get Bucky to look at him. Bucky finally looked up. “How about we just get the extra Henley off the top, so you don’t sweat to death.” Steve tugged at the hem of the outer shirt, lifted it off without disturbing the one underneath. 

Sliding his hand over the thin shirt, Steve could feel the thick muscles beneath. Steve was thin and pale, he had a nearly hairless chest. Bucky was thick muscles and a dusting of dark hair. Steve sat naked next to Bucky who still wore a long sleeved shirt. Bucky’s interests had waned. His cheeks were red.

Questioning, Steve asked, “You still want this?”

Eyes wide, Bucky nodded, leaned in to run his hands over Steve’s skin. Steve lie back, let Bucky take the lead. Slowly touching, and crawling on top, Bucky pressed Steve down with his bulk. Ran his hands up and down as he kissed down Steve’s chest. Barely stopping, he licked at a nipple then tugged at Steve’s length. Kissed Steve’s chest while slowly running his hand up and down. Relaxing enough to occasionally to run his fingers lower, cupping Steve’s sack, then returning to his dick. 

Open mouthed, Steve watched. Rolled his hips instinctively, shuddered when Bucky’s fingers experimented. When Bucky seemed comfortable, fingers exploring, Steve grabbed the lube. Pushed it towards him. 

Squirting a bit on his fingers, Bucky set the bottle aside. 

“Use more,” Steve said, could see Bucky was nervous. “We’re gonna get the sheets gross anyways. “Use a lot more.” Steve knew what it took to make it good. Bucky on the other hand looked out of his element. “You’ve been with girls?” Steve regretted the question as soon as he said it. “Well you gotta get everything slippery with that.”

Nodding, Bucky ran a lube covered hand up and down Steve. Teased behind him. Lowering his head, he took Steve into his mouth. Just the tip, tried to take more, then backed off. “That’s good Buck, use your hand.” Bucky’s hand ran up and down the shaft. He tried to lower himself again, but didn’t get that far, pulled back with a jerk. “It’s good Buck, It’s good.” Steve reached down threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, not to push down, but to keep him from trying to take too much. 

Looking down Steve watched Bucky grinding against the sheets. Steve had to tip his head back and count to ten. After, he tugged Bucky’s hair, pulled him off. Bucky looked up questioning. “Come up here,” Steve barked. 

Snatching the lube, Steve poured some onto his hand, fumbled the bottle off the bed. Reached behind himself, as Bucky crawled up the bed. On his knees, Steve spread his legs, slipped fingers in. Reaching over he pushed Bucky onto his back. Straddled Bucky’s chest and worked his finger into himself. Lube dripped down onto Bucky’s shirt, down Steve’s legs, where they wrapped Bucky’s chest. Bucky had his hands on Steve’s thighs rubbing up and down. Staring wide eyed while Steve got himself ready. He tried to lean up, take the tip back into his mouth. Instinctively, Steve thrust in, tipped forward over Bucky’s mouth and began to roll his hips. Leaning on one arm, the other pressed inside, he dropped his head and moaned. Opened his eyes and slid back, when he realized he was probably going too fast, too deep. Once Steve pulled free, Bucky gasped in a breath.

Before Bucky even recovered, Steve slid back, grabbed a hold of Bucky and slid down onto him. On an open mouthed gasp, Bucky practically sat up. Steve pushed his chest back down, started to ride him hard and fast. Bucky moaned, groaned and gasped. Turns out he was loud in bed. Soon it turned into words, as he groaned “Oh, fuck,” over and over. When Bucky started to writhe, begin one long low groan, Steve knew he was close, began to jerk himself. Came on Bucky’s stomach as Bucky thrust into him another dozen times, then bowed, a soundless cry on his lips. Steve smiled as Bucky slumped back down. 

Eyes closed, dark hair fanned under him. Bucky’s chest rose and fell like he had just run a marathon. Steve lowered himself down, ran his fingernails through the sweaty short beard under Bucky’s chin. Bucky shivered, whispered “Don’t stop,” when Steve pulled his hand away.

As they relaxed, Steve felt Bucky soften, slip out. Bucky opened his eyes. Slid his hand down over the swell of Steve’s ass. Slipped a finger in. Steve shuddered. Closed his eyes and let Bucky explore. Bucky found a place that made Steve squirm, twitch his hips. Slapping his hand away, Steve glared over to see a mischievous gleam in Bucky’s bright blue eyes. 

“Behave,” Steve scolded, “Remember your turn is coming up.”

Raising an eyebrow “You can get it up again?” he asked.

“Not tonight,” Steve grumbled, “go to sleep.” Steve grabbed his discarded shirt. Wiped them up.

Looking over, Steve saw Bucky bite his lip “In here.” Steve added “Sleep here.” 

Bucky made a half smile, “Um, you’re on the covers,” he said. Then stood, returned to the living-room, went into the bathroom then came back in a clean shirt. 

Still smelly, sweaty, and a little sticky, Steve slipped under the blanket and fell asleep. As he was drifting off, he felt the bed dip and a cool hand come to rest on his stomach. Steve shivered and pulled Bucky closer, shifted over. Left no gap.

Slowly coming awake, Steve felt that Bucky was a morning wood kind of guy. Even, loud breaths puffed in Steve’s ear, and he glanced at the clock. They wouldn’t have time to do anything but get ready for work. They both stunk. Smelling like sweat and other things, showers were mandatory. Casually, Steve reached over to turn off the alarm before it started. He was a half a second too late, and it went off right as he was reaching over Bucky. 

A barked yell, and frightened blue eyes were all Steve remembered before finding himself on the floor beside the bed. Reaching out, Steve felt the throb in his hip where Bucky kicked him. Possibly kicked him. Didn’t seem like a punch. Wrong angle, wrong place on his body. It had been hard enough to throw him to the floor along side the bed. 

Kneeling on the bed, Bucky was afraid to move closer. He held out his shaky hand. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” 

When Steve sat up, tried to get up, Bucky slid down off the bed. Moved in to help Steve. “I’m sorry.” he was still saying. 

Shakily, Steve stood, looked over at Bucky who was also shaking. “Okay, that’s enough excitement for this early in the morning.” he smiled.

Frowning, Bucky did not return his smile. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Steve lied. Stretched then said “I’m calling first shower. Man, we stink.” 

In the shower Steve saw he was going to bruise. He should ice it, but didn’t want Bucky to know. Quickly he cleaned up. Hearing the tap running through the pipes, Steve knew Bucky was in the kitchen making coffee. Wearing a towel over his hips slipped into the bedroom, called out “Shower’s yours,” then quickly dressed. 

Once the bathroom door clicked, Steve got some ice for his hip. It hurt and was going to be purple. Steve bruised easily, and Bucky had one hell of a kick.

Ditching the ice when he heard Bucky come out, they walked down to the car. Relieved they didn’t have to walk, Steve looked in. It was strange looking into the car. The duffel he brought up was all clothes. The car was all Bucky. 

Shifting a cardboard box and a stack of library books to the back seat, Bucky looked embarrassed. 

The car was mostly clean of trash, but full of stuff. On one side, the back seat foot well was full of notebooks, and pencils. The other had boxes of prepackaged food. Crackers, and cans in a jumble. Mismatched full bottles of water sat in a row, their labels worn and peeling, caps previously opened. 

“What were you reading?” Steve asked to fill the silence. 

“Mysteries. That one is a World War Two historical mystery. The others are kinda like it, but not from the same era.” he said, pulling out for the short drive. 

“So, you good at figuring out who the killer is?” Steve smiled.

“Actually, I’m terrible. I can count on one hand how many times I got it right. Those were probably dumb luck anyways,” he laughed.

They parked out behind the store. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand, reached up to kiss his cheek as they were going in. Bucky blushed bright red, then gave a dopey smile, walked right into a display. 

Nick was standing two aisles away with a clipboard. He looked up when he heard the stock fall, “Rogers, that somehow seems like it’s your fault.” 

Scrambling to put the cans back, Bucky was laughing. Steve laughed too as he rushed over to help. “You’re not putting them up right.” Steve pushed his hands away. Leaned in, and their eyes locked. 

They jerked away when Nick growled “Not in the store,” he came closer, “Barnes, go file something. Rogers, flirt on your own time,” Then Nick followed Bucky into the back.

Bucky’s smile had come back full force. Steve didn’t realize how unhappy Bucky had looked till today. When they had lunch Bucky had the dopey smile again. He kept doing this thing where he would lick his bottom lip while smiling. Steve needed him to stop. 

Steve got another text from Sam. He and Natasha wanted to invite Steve and Bucky over. Change of venue. Sam had a new awesome recipe he wanted to try out. Steve didn’t want to go. He was tired, and his hip was sore. Bucky usually needed ice in the evenings. Still, his friends were trying. They wanted to make Bucky feel welcome, because they loved Steve. He appreciated that. 

On the drive home Steve ran the plans for the evening past Bucky. He seemed cool with it, so once they showered and changed they headed over to Sam’s place. 

Sam’s place was nicer than Steve’s. It was two bedroom two bath, and significantly bigger. Sam was also prior military, but given Bucky’s dishonorable discharge, Steve didn’t bring it up. 

Natasha arrived shortly after they did. She still wore her work clothes, and carried a badge and holster on her belt. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of the weapon. Steve was used to it. Knew Natasha was just as deadly unarmed as armed. When they were kids she took ballet and Karate. She could kick ass and look good doing it. 

Rubbing at his arm, Bucky had been trying to lay low on the couch. Steve wasn’t sure if Natasha had told Sam about Bucky’s record. Sam spent much of the time in the kitchen, and Steve tried to help out. Natasha hovered near the living room, keeping an eye on Bucky, as he watched the news. Getting some ice from the freezer, Steve divided it into two bags and wrapped them in a towels. He handed the two bags to Nat. “Give those to Bucky.” Steve said. 

Watching the two interact was strange. Bucky blinked up at her with wide eyes as she held out the bags. Took them without touching her. Immediately returned to watching the news. Steve would bet Bucky just had it on for something to stare at. Natasha, sat down in a nearby chair. Called his bluff, asked about what the reporter said.

Frozen, Bucky stared at her. Steve called into the room “Hey Buck, You take your pills yet?” and Bucky jumped up.

He turned and stammered “No, I didn’t” then fled the room. Came into the kitchen where Sam was ladling out chili samples. Steve had some ibuprofen ready for Bucky to take. Luckily he thought ahead. 

Reaching up into the top cupboard for a glass, Steve heard Natasha say, “What is that?” 

She was leaning in the doorway. Steve pulled down the glass. Looked over to see what they were talking about. Everyone was frozen staring at Steve. Sam’s ladle dripped Chili on the clean white floor. 

Straightening, Natasha walked into the room. Walked right up into Bucky’s space. He was looking at her, trying to figure out what was going on. Steve pushed between them. 

Bucky looked down at Steve, “Did I do that?”

“It’s okay Buck, It was an accident.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s chest tried to reassure him. 

Bucky whispered, “But, I kicked you.”

That was enough for Natasha to act. She moved in swiftly sliding around Steve to grab Bucky by the wrist. She spun him around, face first into the cabinets. Shoved his bad arm up, behind him. He gasped, struggled, and she shoved his arm higher. He cried out, went up to his tiptoes. Then, she gave his arm another jerk. His head snapped back, catching her in the forehead, she didn’t release, and he stomped her toe. 

Steve was right in there, trying to break it up. He caught an elbow to the sternum as Bucky struggled. Sam grabbed Steve, tried to pull him back. Steve yelled, and Bucky twisted. 

Grabbing a fist full of Bucky’s hair, Natasha slammed his head into the cabinets. Bucky started to slump, he weakly mule kicked back, glanced her shin. She stepped back to avoid begin kicked again, Bucky wriggled free, turned. Stepping in, Natasha kneed him in the junk full force. Bucky fell like a stone. Curling into a ball, he gasped and writhed. 

Firmly, Steve yelled “Let go,” and Sam released him.

Kneeling in front of Bucky, Steve carefully put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Angrily he looked up at Natasha. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m arresting him for assault, and resisting arrest, Steve. Once he won’t hurl on my shoes, I’m going to cuff him.”

“He didn’t assault me!” Steve yelled.

“He confessed.” she growled back “to a police officer.”

“He kicked me in his sleep,” Steve cried, “How can that be assault?”

“He did that to you in his sleep?” She asked, leaning down and pulling Steve’s shirt higher. The bruise on his hip was a livid purple.

“Yes.” he looked up at her. “He was asleep, and I reached over him. Tried to stop the alarm before it went off. I was too late, and it startled him.” 

She squinted down at Bucky. Steve begged, “Please Nat,” when she didn’t look swayed, Steve stood firm, ‘If you arrest him, I’m just going down there to bail him out.” 

Looking up, Bucky groaned “I’m not taking any of your money, Steve.” he was panting, his face was red, and his eyes were wet.

“Shut up, Buck” Steve growled.

Natasha walked back into the living room, picked up one of the bags of ice. Adjusted it’s towel and handed it to Steve, saying, “Barnes, put that on your junk,” 

“I got it,” Steve said, tried to get Bucky’s hands to let go. “Come on Buck, help me out.”

Looking up, Bucky took the bag from Steve, held it to his groin with a low groan. 

“Oh crap, the chili,” Sam said, stepping around Steve and Bucky, to stir the big pot. He quickly snapped the heat off, moved the pot to a cool burner. 

Natasha continued to watch, leaning on the doorway. 

“It really was an accident, Steve?” she asked.

He looked her in the eyes, “It was an accident, Nat.” 

Slowly, Bucky was moving his legs, trying to sit up. Steve helped him. Clutching the bag of ice between his legs, Bucky panted. 

“Are we cool?” Sam asked, getting a beer from the fridge. He looked over at Natasha “You taking him to the pokey?”

She laughed at Sam, “No, Steve said it was an accident. I believe him.”

Sam opened the fridge again. Pulled out two more bottles, opened them and handed them to Steve. 

Bucky immediately took one, downed the whole thing in one long pull. Steve stared at him.

Sam said “Was that wise?” and Steve shrugged, set the empty and his full bottle on the counter.

“Can you guys take this to the living room? I need access to the kitchen.”

Bucky looked up, nodded from the floor, and tried to get to his feet. Steve was on his right, and Sam reached under his left armpit to help lift. With a faint cry, Bucky tried to pull away from Sam, fell into Steve and slumped back to his knees. 

“Shit, we need to take him to the emergency room.” Sam said.

Bucky was shaking his head, “No, I just gotta lie down a second.” he was sliding down towards the kitchen floor again. Steve was trying to control his descent.

“Hey dude, not the kitchen floor. Let’s get you to the couch.” despite Sam’s words, Bucky was still lowering himself down. “Steve, man let me get this.” He grabbed Bucky’s right arm, slung it over his shoulder and lifted. Bucky stood wobbly legged, and stumbled where Sam led him. 

Natasha stayed back, gave them space. Steve hovered behind Sam and Bucky. When they got to the sofa, Sam lowered Bucky down. He took Bucky’s left arm, checked the range of motion. Bucky could barely lift it above his waist. 

Sam frowned, leaned back, said “Hey Nat, can you give us a minute? Maybe stir the chili?” 

Her eyebrows went up, and Steve looked at Sam. 

After Natasha left the room, Sam said, “Okay, I need you to take the ice away and check yourself out. Nat has one hell of a kick, and she was pissed. If you ruptured something, I don’t want you dying on my couch.” 

“How do you know if it’s ruptured?” Steve asked. 

“He’ll know. Just…” He gestured around his groin, “make sure everything is okay, no swelling, no blood.”

Bucky unbuttoned his pants, and Sam turned around. “I don’t see any swelling,” Steve answered. Bucky pulled his underwear back up, left his pants unbuttoned, and pressed the bag of ice in the ‘v’ of the zipper with a hiss. 

Sam turned back, “you should probably wear briefs the next couple of days, and seriously keep an eye out for bloody piss.”

Steve nodded, while Bucky just lie back, clutched the bag. Steve went to get more ice for Bucky’s shoulder. Natasha was in the kitchen, she looked up “Is he okay?” 

Shrugging, Steve grabbed a bag and opened the freezer, “He can barely move his shoulder now.” He turned to go.

“Steve,” she placed a hand on his arm, “If he needs to go to the hospital, don’t let money stop him. I’ll pay the bill.” Steve still looked at the ground. “Listen to me, Steve.”

Steve looked at her, “You heard him. He won’t even take money from me. Why would he take it from you.”

“Tell him, I own up to my mistakes,” she said.

Steve came out with more ice. Sat on the floor next to the couch. Lay the ice carefully on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky had his eyes closed. Steve softly said,  
“Nat said, she’ll pay for you to go to the hospital.” 

Bucky didn’t open his eyes or react other than to say “No.”

“If you need to go, between Nat and I, we can take care of it.” Steve didn’t let up.

Opening his eyes, Bucky looked over, his frown firmly in place “I said, No.”

Steve nodded, sat silently next to Bucky. Eventually, Bucky sat up, put his feet on the floor. 

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah. I still have that weird shaky feeling,” he held out his right hand. It shook with tiny tremors. 

“How’s your shoulder?”

“I’ve had worse. But, the arm’s gonna be useless the next few days.” 

Sam came in with two bowls of Chili. “You guys think you can eat?” 

Bucky looked at the bowl with a frown, “You can eat. I’ll wait.” 

“You should wear a sling for the next few days,” Sam said, “and see a doctor. But, at least wear a sling.”

Steve added, “Sam was a Pararescue. He has medical training.”

“I’ve got an old sling, if he’s too stubborn to see a doctor.” Sam said.

“Stubborn should be his middle name.” Steve said, and Sam laughed. Bucky just scowled.

Sam fetched a blue sling that looked a little worn at the edges. It had sharpie drawings of hand gliders on the shoulder. 

Setting his bowl onto the coffee table, Steve stood and reached out for the sling. He was laughing, “Oh My God! The hand glider! I forgot about that disaster.” he howled. Natasha was laughing from the doorway, and Sam just looked embarrassed. 

Changing the subject, Sam turned to Bucky, “It slips over the shoulder. Keeps pressure off the injured muscle.” He said unfolding and untwisting the straps. Then he helped Bucky sit up, slipped the sling on, got his arm positioned. Bucky had been holding the ice in his pants with his left hand, and the ice on his shoulder with his right. 

The ice tumbled out of his pants, and Steve caught it, set it on the coffee table. 

“Hey, I need that.” Bucky groused. 

“You need to zip up. Nat’s in here.” Steve answered.

“I only got one hand.” Bucky said with a eyebrow wag.

Sam cringed, “Gross, you two get a room.” 

With a smile that looked more like a leer Natasha purred, “No, don’t stop them on my account.” 

Bucky immediately ducked his head and blushed. Steve quickly leaned in and zipped him up, grumbled “That’s gross.”

Sam looked at Natasha with a big smile, “Well, that was way more effective.”

When Steve reached for his bowl, he looked at Bucky, “Want yours?” He grabbed Bucky’s set it in his hand. “You need me to feed you?”

“Before we have another scene. Here…” Sam pulled up a tiny end table, set Bucky’s food on that.

Bucky nodded, leaned over the bowl, content to shovel Chili into his mouth. Everyone was quiet for the next few minutes, as they ate. Sam settled into a chair, and Steve remained at Bucky’s feet on the carpet. Natasha wandered off, returned with four more bottles of beer which she set on the coffee table.

“Well I guess I can use that recipe again,” Sam said, and everyone agreed. After his first bowl, Sam said, “You guys want to start the movie?” 

“Sure, I’ll put it in while you get more.” Natasha sat of the floor in front of the TV. Held up a few different DVD’s for Steve to pick from. Bucky watched, but didn’t give any opinions.

After lowering the lights, Sam came back and sat in his chair. Moving to sit next to Bucky, Steve could tell he was keeping his eye on Natasha. Every time Steve looked over, Bucky was watching her. Natasha didn’t really look over, or seem to care. Then, Steve caught Natasha’s reflection in a small decorative mirror on the sideboard. She hadn’t been watching the movie either. Her eyes were as glued to Bucky’s as his were to her. She was just much more subtle, probably picked that spot with the mirror in mind.  
Steve sighed, leaned against Bucky’s good side. 

After the movie, everyone headed home. Bucky stood up stiffly. Walked back to the car slowly. Steve offered to drive, and Bucky handed over the keys without comment. Steve opened his door, and helped him get settled inside.

On the short drive home, Bucky stared out the window, his face emotionless and unreadable.

It had been a while since Steve had driven a car. He liked walking, but driving was fun too. Even though he enjoyed the drive, when he got home Steve was thankful he found a spot where he didn’t have to test his ability to parallel  
park. 

Once in the apartment, Bucky silently cleaned up in the bathroom, came out and settled on the couch. 

Steve came out of the bedroom in his shorts. “You staying up? I’m beat.”

Slowly shaking his head Bucky said “I’m beat too. A good ass kickin will do that.” 

Steve laughed, “She just jumped to conclusions. As a detective, she spends a lot of time around some really bad people.” 

Reaching over the end of the couch, Bucky hauled out his rolled up sleeping bag. Gave it a shake. 

“Why are you sleeping out here?” Steve asked.

“I just gotta sleep. I can’t do that if I’m worried I’m going to hurt you.” Bucky said, trying to squeeze in and lie back with the sling still on. Tugging the sleeping bag over himself he kicked it mostly over his legs. He was much taller than the couch was long. It caused bent twisted legs, and feet jammed into a corner.

“No, Buck.” Steve said sadly. “You take the bed.”

Bucky took an angry breath “Steve, this is your apartment, and your bed. I will not make you sleep on the couch.”

Steve scowled, “This is my fuckin’ apartment. I am telling you to get in the damn bed.”

Bucky blinked up at him. “I don’t want to hurt you.” he said quietly.

“Then, I will sleep on the couch till we get it sorted out.” Steve had his hands on his hips, expression fierce. He looked like a tiny drill sergeant, “Get in the bed.” he growled.

There was a light in Steve eyes as he held his position, scowling. Bucky flipped the sleeping bag off. Carefully, maneuvered himself off the couch and past Steve into the bedroom. Sleeping bag dragging behind him like a long tail. He flopped down on top of the covers on his back, pulled his sleeping bag over him. Steve walked into the room, scowled at Bucky then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he came out, Bucky was asleep, snoring softly.

Great for watching movies, Steve loved his couch. Loved the lines of it, the way it complemented his living room. Steve could almost lie flat without bending his legs. Almost. The couch was harder to sleep on than Steve would have thought. When he woke he was sore and surly. He wanted a new couch. 

Bucky emerged from the bedroom, and his hair was flat and sweaty. He went straight into the bathroom to take a shower. 

Steve saw the twisted sling on the bed when he went to fetch some clean clothes. Bucky emerged from the shower looking a lot better. He looked pale though. 

“Sit down,” Steve said “I’ll put help you with the sling before I shower.”

Sitting on the bed, Bucky said, “I think I gave myself heat stroke using the sleeping bag last night. You have the heat cranked in here.”

“Well, we are indoors.” Steve said slipping the sling over Bucky’s head. When he was finished, he gave Bucky’s shoulder a pat. Bucky flinched away. “Sorry, sorry. I should be more worried about injuring you. How’s your junk?” Steve asked. He gave a little devious smile, and knelt in front of Bucky. 

Eyes widening, Bucky gasped. “Uh.” 

Reaching for Bucky’s zipper, Steve slowly pulled it down. Reached inside and got a handful of warm skin. Bucky gave a throb, slowly hardening. “Seems like everything is in working order.” Steve said tucking Bucky away, zipping him up. “Maybe we can see how well everything works when we get home.”

Bucky swallowed loudly, nodded yes.

Steve stood and walked to the shower.


	7. Chapter 7

When Steve came out of the shower, Bucky was crunching through another bowl of cereal. Steve joined him for a cup of coffee, took his pills. Poured himself some cereal.

“You feelin okay?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of cereal.

“Yeah, why?” Steve asked.

“Cause, you just took a handful of pills.”

“I told you, I work at the store because I need insurance,” he shrugged.

Eyebrow raised, Bucky continued to stare at him.

“It’s just anemia, Okay?” Steve grumbled “Amongst a ton of other things. Nothing you have to worry about.”

Setting his spoon down, Bucky said “What does that mean?” 

“I mean, nothing contagious. Nothing you have to worry about.” Steve growled.

Bucky frowned into the table “So, you can worry about me? But, I can’t worry about you?”

“Oh,” Steve didn’t know what to say. 

“You can be a dick.” Bucky turned away, took his bowl to the sink, rinsed it and his cup.

Steve gave a sarcastic smile, “Are you just noticing that?” 

Plopping down on the couch, Bucky laced his boots in hard jerks. Steve followed with his bowl and coffee. Sat next to him. “I have diabetes, and sinusitis too,” he said, “Plus, stuff like color blindness that they don’t have pills for.”

Jerking back, Bucky squinted at Steve, “You’re fulla shit.” he growled “You can’t be color blind. I’ve seen your paintings.”

“The tubes have labels dumbass, and colorblindness doesn’t mean I can’t see all the colors.” Steve grumbled. 

The anger left Bucky’s face, leaving him looking confused. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I take my pills and I’m pretty okay.” Steve smiled, tried to reassure Bucky “I see my doctor regularly. They keep good tabs on everything. Seriously Bucky, you don’t have to worry.” Steve watched Bucky’s face, he was biting his lip again. Suddenly, Steve noticed the time. 

Slapping Bucky’s knee he said, “We gotta get moving.”

As they put on their coats, Steve handed Bucky a tiny box. Bucky took it looking confused. “It’s a pill box. Has extra ibuprofen for you to take at work,” Steve said.

Bucky smiled, “Much more fancy than this,” And he pulled a palm full of pills and lint from his pocket. 

Picking the fuzz out, Steve helped Bucky get the pills into the box.

That evening, Steve tested out Bucky’s stamina. Afterwards, Bucky lie on his back catching his breath, “None of that anemia, diabetes, stuff has affected your performance.” 

Steve laughed, “The pills sometimes have side effects. Tonight, however, we were golden.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“Sometimes it takes me a while to get hard.” Steve admitted. 

“Is that why you always start on me first?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, “I just need to look at you, and you start to get hard. Gets everything rolling.” 

Blushing, Bucky grumbled “Well, look at you, who wouldn’t?”

Steve blushed and rested his head on Bucky’s good shoulder. They both started to drift off.

Jerking awake, Bucky said “I can take the couch tonight.” Started to roll away. 

Steve held onto his arm. “Come on, Buck. Stay?” 

Looking down, Bucky sighed. Steve lie stretched out, soft pale skin and slim lines, Bucky ran an appreciative hand down his side. 

Steve groaned “I hate the couch, Buck. I know you gotta hate it worse.” Steve pulled at his arm again, “I like having you in here.”

“What if I kick you again?” Bucky pled.

“Then you have to stand against the wall, and I get to kick you.”

“Are you trying to get me to go to the couch?” he said rolling his eyes, “Cause, I never want to go through that again.”

“Are you mad at Nat?” Steve asked.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “No. She was just protecting you. I get it.” 

“So, her mistake is okay, and yours isn’t?” Steve said with a raised eyebrow. 

“I didn’t say I trusted her not to kick my ass again. That isn’t what you asked me.” 

“Come on, Buck. I trust you not to kick my ass on purpose.” Steve settled on his side, “But, It’s your decision.”

Reaching up, Bucky rubbed his shoulder again. “That couch is not made to be slept on,” he mumbled. 

Steve stretched out on his stomach, “then stay,” he said.

Bucky reached out, ran his hand down Steve’s arm. Slid carefully down next to Steve. Leaned in while Steve rolled onto his back. Bucky kissed at his collar bone, up his neck. Steve tipped his head back, as Bucky leisurely kissed his way up. 

Their mouths met and they slowly kissed. Moaning Bucky said “I gotta get some sleep, Steve.” Steve gave him a wicked smile, then lie beside him. They both moved in close. 

Sleep was hovering at the edge of Steve’s consciousness. He was drifting when he heard Bucky speak. “I dream about them.” 

“Who?” Steve mumbled, not fully awake and not following.

“The bodies. The kids.” He added, then stopped.

Steve felt a chill, and came awake instantly. The moon was full, and bathed the room in silver. Steve looked down at the top of Bucky’s head where it leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

Bucky’s breathing was deep and steady. Steve thought he might have fallen asleep, but he continued “There were twelve kids. I couldn’t have told you that at the time. But in the years since then, I have dreamt about them so many times. I’m able to count them.”

“I’m sorry Buck.” Steve said “I am so sorry.”

“They took me prisoner two days after it happened. After the kids were slaughtered. It felt like punishment. Like I deserved it.”

“No Buck, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It was my unit. We were supposed to secure the village. It was like eight, ten houses. I can’t remember. I was Squad Leader. My squad was securing two routes in and out. The two roads to the west, and the farmland around it.”

“Another Squad was securing the only other route in, to the south. The rest were inside the village, clearing the houses. Searching for insurgents. All of a sudden, I heard the M60’s screaming. After everything got silent & my Platoon Sergeant radioed it was secure, we all rallied. I hopped out of my Humvee to talk to Sergeant Rum…to my Platoon Sergeant, and I could see inside the house. It was full of blood and little kids, there were two women. No men anywhere… He told me to mount up. And we just left. Left them to the flies.”

“So you didn’t kill them yourself?” Steve asked.

“Steve, It was my unit. Who was I to judge. I’ve killed before. If someone had threatened us, I would unload on them. I’ve killed kids too.” Steve could hear that Bucky’s breathing had gone shallow. He began to rub Bucky’s back, the soft cloth of the shirt was slightly damp.

“You didn’t have a choice, Buck.” 

“But, I did it.” he said. Steve felt his breath shudder. Bucky continued “I have killed so many people, Steve. If someone threatened my men, I would kill them without a second thought.”

“You did it to protect people, Buck” 

“Later, I heard Rollins, he was bragging about how the women begged.” Bucky sobbed “I should have said something. Told someone. I think those bastards enjoyed it. But, I didn’t tell, and then we hit an IED and got ambushed. The fire was everywhere, it was so loud. My ears were ringing. 

I had three men dead, and I tumbled out of the Humvee through the flames. I landed on my knees after getting out of the heat and smoke. My arm hurt so much I couldn’t even pick up my rifle. And they rushed up, I though they were going to kill me. I was so out of it I didn’t even fight, really. They just dragged me away.” Steve felt the warm tears on his skin, where Bucky had his head rested on Steve’s chest. Bucky sniffled and rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. 

Still rubbing circles, Steve repeated, “I’m so sorry, Buck.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I got what I deserved.” he said “Steve, you are a good man. So honest and kind. Your friends are right, I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to pull you into my mess, but I’m weak. I want to be good enough.”

Steve sat up, pushed Bucky till he could see his face. “You are good enough,” Steve insisted. 

Bucky’s eyes were red rimmed, and he had splotches of color on his wet cheeks. “I’m as fucked up on the inside as I am on the outside.”

“But, you’re beautiful.” Steve insisted. 

Tears rolled down Bucky’s cheeks steadily. “How can you say that?” he whispered “Do you have any idea what’s under here?” he said pulling at his shirt. 

Angrily Bucky sat up, got tangled in his sling for a half a second before yanking it off. It came free right as Steve heard fabric ripping. In one quick tug, the shirt was gone. The white lines of the scars shined in the moonlight. His chest around his left arm was covered in them. The scars extended over his shoulder to the back. The burns trailed around the arm like a vine. The most horrific part was on his shoulder. A shiny big patch of a scar. Steve fought back angry, horrified, nausea. They carved a star into Bucky’s shoulder. 

Steve ran his fingers over the shoulder, down the arm. “Is this why it always hurts?” Steve asked.

“Probably. There’s a lot of metal in there too. Some weird new metal called vibranium, I think. They added it to hold the bone together. The doctors said the pain will always be there. The Iraqis messed up the muscles underneath, not just the skin on the outside.” 

Steve kissed his shoulder, “Is this okay?”

Bucky looked shocked, his eyes were wide and wet, glued to what Steve was doing. “You don’t think it’s disgusting?” he whispered.

“I told you Buck. I think you’re beautiful.” Steve smiled.

Bucky put his hand to his face and wept while Steve knelt on the bed and held him. Softly kissed the top of his head. Rubbed slow circles on his back. Steve held him till long after the tears stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a while, but Bucky finally fell asleep, exhausted from his confession. Steve stayed awake for another hour, wired from the new information. 

The next morning while Bucky was in the shower, Steve sent a text to Sam. Asked about Bucky’s benefits and disability claims. Asked if Bucky should be getting medical treatment at the VA for his shoulder. Sam was a VA counselor by day. Steve was convinced he would be able to help.

Sam said he would look into it. 

When Bucky came out of the shower he was already in his long sleeve shirt. His jeans weren’t buttoned yet, and he was toweling his dripping hair dry one handed. Steve leaned on the doorjamb to the kitchen, sipping coffee. 

The phone on the coffee table chimed. Leaning down to pick it up Steve said “I sent Sam a text. Hopefully, you can get a VA doctor to look at your shoulder for free.”

The hand in Bucky’s hair froze, dropped to his side, towel dangling forgotten. He stared at Steve. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Sam works at the VA. He can help.”

Bucky deflated, and he slipped down onto the couch. 

“Steve,” he looked up, “it was a dishonorable discharge. I don’t deserve benefits.”

“You were injured in the line of duty. They blew up your fucking truck. Of course you deserve benefits.” Steve growled.

“Okay, in terms you might prefer. I’m denied benefits. I got some treatment before and during the court marshal, then afterward in Leavenworth. But once I served my time, I don’t get crap.”

Steve sat down next to him. “Oh,” he said.

“I already knew that Steve. They explained everything pretty well when they were throwing me out.”

Steve stared at his blinking phone. 

“So, I guess Sam knows now too.” Bucky sighed.

“He won’t judge you. He was in combat, he understands.”

Bucky huffed a sad laugh. “Steve, prior service guys are usually the worst. I’m an embarrassment to them. I was in the news for all the wrong reasons.”

“But, It’s not your fault, you didn’t actually even kill those people.”

“Steve, no one but you believes that. It doesn’t matter, anyways. We were trying to ‘win the hearts and minds’ of the Iraqis. Then, my unit murdered those kids. I was on camera admitting to the world what my unit did. It lit a fire under the Iraqi rebels. My face was on the news all across the globe. Every day in Leavenworth the guards would say “ten troops dead today, Barnes. How many of them are your fault?”

“Sam's not like that.”

Bucky nodded, looked over at Steve’s phone. “See what he says.”

Steve picked up the phone, sighed and looked at Bucky. “He says you’re denied benefits.”

After a moment of silence, Steve said, “Maybe we can get the case reopened. Get you cleared.”

“Please, Steve,” he begged, “Let it go. Colonel Phillips only gave me six months. It could have been so much worse. I’ve just gotten my feet under me. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Steve nodded, but all day he thought about it. When they got home, he made his best heavy meal, said he needed to get his next painting done. Steve hoped Bucky would read a while and fall asleep. But, Bucky could really get into a book. It took forever for him to get tired. Finally, Bucky announced he was going to turn in. Covered in paint, Steve actually almost finished the commission. It wasn’t as good as his normal work. He was distracted. 

Once Steve was satisfied Bucky was drooling into his pillow, he called Sam. 

Sam grunted into the phone, complained that Steve woke him. Steve told him to suck it up, asked how he could clear Bucky’s name. Sam did not think Steve should meddle. He actually told Steve he thought Bucky might be someone he couldn’t fix. Steve got mad, hung up on him. Called back to hiss at him, “You are a terrible counselor! Is that what you tell the vets in your counseling group?” Then hung up on him again, checked the bedroom to make sure he didn’t wake Bucky. 

Returning to his painting, Steve almost trashed the whole thing. He hated it, painted over a big section of trees. Painted in a fierce dragon hidden in the trees ready to eat the maiden. This was not what the publisher asked for. It didn’t really have to do with the theme of the book. He added blood to the dragons claws, and bones at it’s feet. While he was making the forest more ominous, Natasha called.

She had talked to Sam, of course. They are the worst. They can’t keep a secret at all. Steve grumbled at her, asked her how on earth she did any undercover work at all. She just said “People tell me things.”

When Steve calmed down a bit, he realized what she was saying. “Do you think you can help?” he asked, sounding a little stunned.

“Are you sure you want to open this can of worms? You might not like what I find.” she said, seriously. 

“Please Natasha,” Steve begged, “He is in pain all the time. He needs a specialist. He needs to have his name cleared.”

“He needs to clear his name, or you need to clear his name?” she asked.

Glad she couldn’t see his face, Steve said “He deserves to have his name cleared.”

After Steve spoke with Natasha, he slid into the bed. Bucky half woke, mumbled “You finish your work?” 

“I’ve got some more to do, but I did all I can tonight.” Then slipped a leg between Bucky’s. Rubbed till Bucky was half hard, with a hint of a smile on his face. When Steve leaned in for a kiss, Bucky just sighed, curled around Steve. Grumbling and rolling over, Steve pressed his back to Bucky. Fell asleep with Bucky curled around him.

They scheduled their day off to sync up. The next morning they had nowhere to be, nothing they needed to do. Steve was exhausted, but woke to Bucky’s mouth on his shoulder, his morning arousal evident and grinding into Steve’s hip. 

“Oh, now your interested?” Steve groused.

“Hmm? Bucky mumbled trying to wake Steve with his roaming hands. “Did you try something last night?”

“You fell asleep on me.” 

Raising his head, Bucky asked “On you? Are you okay?”

“Not physically on me,” he laughed “I would have woken you if…”

Soft moans replaced anything Steve was going to say. Steve groaned “Your mouth is amazing.” 

Looking up to wink, Bucky ducked back down. He turned Steve into a shuddering mess, before Steve turned them around and took control of the  
situation. He watched Bucky fall apart with open mouthed gasps and cries. Then climbing on and riding him hard, Steve blurted, “your mouth is obscene.” Suddenly, Bucky arched and came. Steve followed shortly after. 

As they lie breathing hard, Steve reached down slipped a finger under Bucky’s balls. Bucky moaned, and Steve said “Today. I wanna be in here. Today, Buck. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Bucky looked over, nodded “Yeah, Steve, yeah.”

Steve slid up the bed, grabbed the lube. Began fingering Bucky open while he was relaxed. It didn’t take long before Bucky wasn’t relaxed. Steve had been rubbing a single finger in the spot that should have Bucky wanting more. Instead, he kept clenching down. Steve tried to take him in his mouth, but Bucky stayed soft. “You gotta relax.” Steve finally said.

Reaching up and wiping a trickle of sweat from his temple, Bucky grumbled “I’m tryin.” 

“How about we forget this part for now?” he said, removing his finger. 

It didn’t take long for Bucky to get interested again, and Steve tried the finger again. Used so much lube it was making a puddle. Slid one finger till he got a moan from Bucky, kept at it till his hand was getting tired. Diligently and slowly Steve worked. As he made it to the third finger, Bucky began to clench again. Steve almost moaned with frustration as Bucky’s cock started to soften. Steve went back to two fingers till Bucky relaxed, then just tried to go for it. 

It was a mistake. Steve had been with other guys. It usually went a lot better than this. Thinking back, Steve doesn’t think he was ever another guy’s first time. The way this was going, he might be Bucky’s last time. Bucky’s knees were up by his ears, and they had more than enough slick, Steve should just slide right in. This was definitely not happening. Steve strained to hold the position.

Every muscle on Bucky was starting to clench down. His head was thrown back and Steve could see the tendons strain in Bucky’s neck. Steve held still, rubbed up and down Bucky’s sides. Mumbled nonsense “So beautiful, so good, come on Buck relax.” Bucky swallowed, his Adams apple bobbed. Then something loosened, and Steve slipped in. Bucky’s mouth opened wide on a moan. Steve froze, afraid it was a pained moan. After a few breaths Bucky groaned again, “Okay, Steve, okay.” he gasped “I think you can move.” 

Getting a better grip on Bucky’s ankles, Steve adjusted the angle. Bucky moaned again. Steve started to slowly move, and Bucky began one long loud moan. The pace gradually picked up. Finally, Bucky was begging, “Oh, there, harder, there, Oh, right there,” till he came on a silent choked cry. When it was over, Bucky went limp. His eyes were half closed, and he just stared at the ceiling, quietly breathing hard. Steve cleaned him up, lie with him, rubbing slow circles in his stomach under his shirt. 

Drifting to sleep, they napped away the afternoon. When Bucky woke, he grumbled “Oh, Disgusting.” his shirt had glued to him. “I’m gonna have to soak the thing off, or rip out a lot of hair.” 

Steve laughed, “So, you liked it?” he smirked. Bucky scowled back. 

Steve pulled at the glued shirt, while Bucky batted his hand away. Steve said, “next time we can do it without the shirt.”

Looking up with wide eyes, Bucky just blinked at Steve. “I gotta shower.”

“I can join you. Get that shirt unglued.” Steve said with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky sucked a harsh breath. “Yeah, If your sure?” he sounded uncertain.

Steve stepped out of the bed, held out a hand for Bucky to take. Bucky slid off the bed, let Steve lead him to the shower. Getting in with his shirt on, Bucky gigged at the glued shirt, tugged at the sticky spot. Naked, Steve took the bar of soap, ran soapy hands on Bucky. The shirt was gone in seconds and Steve was with naked Bucky in daylight for the first time. 

His shoulders were broad, and he had a dusting of hair in all the right places. Strong muscles spanned his chest, his legs, his arms. In the daylight the left arm looked much more damaged. The contrast between the pale unblemished skin and the scarred flesh stood out. Bucky stared down at Steve, he was blushing. Steve just ran his hands up and down Bucky’s sides. Rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. 

Bucky leaned down, wrapped himself around Steve. His breathing had tiny shudders. Steve just let himself be held. Eventually they washed and came out. Dressed in sweat pants. Bucky slid on a tank top. Steve didn’t even know he owned one. They returned to bed. Bucky slept for another few hours. 

Steve was wired, slipped out of bed. Started another painting of Bucky. Painted him sleeping, lying on his back, a classic reclining nude. He looked peaceful, clean and pure. Steve painted all of Bucky from toe to crown, scars and all.


	9. Chapter 9

Shuffling from the bedroom, Bucky immediately spotted the painting while he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He walked towards like it was a siren calling him. Quietly, he asked “Why did you paint this? Is it for a book?” 

“No.” Steve answered. “It’s for me. Us.”

Bucky’s eyes never left the painting, “What are you going to do with it?”

“Keep it?” Steve was starting to sweat.

“Can you put it in a closet or something?”

“You don’t like it?” Steve felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t meant to hurt Bucky. Steve thought it was beautiful. Bucky was beautiful. He stepped forward, watched Bucky suck his bottom lip into his mouth, start to worry it with his teeth. “You are so beautiful, I could to paint you every day.” 

Bucky turned sharply, eyebrows down. He stared at Steve hard. Shrugging, he turned and walked away, back into the bedroom. 

Steve sighed. He slid the painting behind another one of Bucky. Hoped it had cured enough not to scuff or stick. Bucky didn’t like it, Steve wouldn’t make him look at it.

The phone rang. Nat had found something already. Something big. She couldn’t tell Steve what, but she had report it to her boss. He contacted the FBI it was that big. 

Steve fretted all day. 

In the late afternoon, Natasha sent Steve a text. “FBI is going to question Barnes.” 

She was going against the rules by giving him a heads up. Steve wasn’t sure if he should tell Bucky. He didn’t want to cause a panic attack, it might be better to let it happen organically. But, the more Steve thought, the more he thought that was a bad plan. If Bucky panicked while the FBI was questioning him he would look guilty. They might arrest him.

Steve looked over at Bucky in his tank top. He was barely able to go uncovered in front of Steve. Bucky was in the kitchen, and Steve caught glimpses of him rubbing his arm. He kept holding it close, keeping it covered with his hand. 

Steve looked in Bucky’s duffel. Found a clean sweatshirt without too much wear. He said “Hey Buck. Nat just sent me a text. Uhm…” Steve trailed off. “the FBI want to talk to you.” He held out the sweatshirt. 

Bucky visibly paled. “Steve, what did you do?” he said snatching the shirt. Tugging it on, he rushed over, scooped up the duffel bag. 

Steve followed, stepping closer, “Wait? Where are you going?” he asked confused.

Bucky’s duffel only had half of his clothes, the rest were in Steve’s laundry, or the bedroom. He abandoned them and headed for the door. Grabbing his jacket and boots from their spot by the door, Bucky fled down the stairs. He was barefoot and didn’t seem to care. 

Steve followed, “Buck, wait!” he yelled. 

Outside, two big FBI agents in black windbreakers and sharp haircuts were coming up the sidewalk. Bucky saw them and fled, made a dash to his car. The FBI guys were fast, but Bucky had a head start. Steve stood on the sidewalk, watched another FBI car come around the corner, speed towards Bucky. By chance, Bucky was parked near a corner. He threw his stuff inside the car, and tore down the street. A big bread truck came around the corner, blocked the FBI car just long enough for Bucky to disappear. 

Standing on the cold sidewalk, Steve watched the FBI car race after Bucky, lights flicking on before he lost sight of it. The other two agents ran back to their car, peeled out after him. One agent grabbed a radio, started talking fast. 

Steve was outside sitting on the steps when Natasha pulled up. “I’m so sorry Steve.” she said, and sat next to him. Pulled him close, put her arm around him. “You’re not even wearing a coat. Come on you’re frozen. Let’s go back inside.”

He allowed her to lead him back up the entry stairs, to the heavy outer door. Taking one last look up the street, he whispered “How did this happen, Nat? I was just trying to help.”


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting on his couch, Steve stared at that first painting of Bucky. He hadn’t known Bucky then. It was a study in musculature, fueled by lust. Dark hair, strong shoulders, arms reaching and straining. Bucky was turned away, not even a hint of those blue eyes, the sinful mouth. 

An entire week passed. Steve remained lost. The nude was still hidden away. A thin sliver poked out from behind another canvas. 

Bucky’s extra boots were neatly lined up by the door, mixed in with Steve’s shoes. The book Bucky was reading still lay on the coffee table. A tattered receipt poked from the top, book-marking his page. Steve hadn’t moved a single shirt or sock. Not to wash the dirty, nor to put away the clean. His life was on hold. He hadn’t picked up a brush or pencil. The sketchbook sat untouched. 

Natasha and Sam came over every evening. Sam whispered to Natasha he didn’t think Steve was eating when they weren’t there. He barely ate when they were. Steve heard them talking about him. He didn’t care. 

There was no sightings of Bucky, or much word on the FBI investigation. Natasha had a friend at the FBI. Her friend, Sharon was able to tell her that they had located Bucky’s car at a bus station the day after he gave the FBI the slip. The investigation was ongoing, and she wouldn’t be able to tell Natasha anything else. 

One week after Bucky fled, Natasha finally told Steve what had happened. As she investigated Rollins and Rumlow, she found a strange pattern. Natasha questioned a few former members of the unit. They were now civilians with enough time away from the military to realize their loyalty might have been misplaced. Rumlow and Rollins were into something shady. Something that could get people killed. It went beyond Rumlow into higher places. 

Natasha had handed that information over to her boss, and the FBI were called in.

Steve sat stunned. “What does that mean?”

Shaking her head, Natasha answered, “The more questions I asked, the more questions I had.” she looked at her feet. Shuffled a boot. “But, if you ask me, I think they were transporting and selling arms to whoever would buy. It’s not uncommon for weapons to turn up missing. Ammo, rockets, grenades. That stuff is used. Consumed. Easily sold.” 

She looked up at Steve. “Possibly, even to continue the fighting. More fighting, more ammo, more buyers. It’s a cycle and guys like Rumlow made money off it. I didn’t even need to try to get a warrant to check bank accounts. He had cars and trucks. Things he couldn’t possibly afford on a platoon sergeant’s pay. Even condos in Florida and Hawaii.”

She paused, slowly emphasized the next part, “Steve, he owned a condo in Hawaii that cost more than I make in a lifetime. How did he get that on an Army NCO’s pay? A basic check brought up so many questions. Then, there were the places he was stationed. Always hot spots, assignments where he lacked direct oversight. Someone high in the chain was in on it.” 

Steve looked her in the eyes, “What does this mean for Bucky?”

“Personally, I think the guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“Can he come home?” Steve asked, “He isn’t involved.”

“That’s not our decision. I don’t know anything about the current investigation.” She paused, looked serious. “Has Bucky contacted you?”

Steve shook his head no.

“If he does, he needs to turn himself in. He could get hurt if someone else finds him first. The folks in the FBI aren’t known for using kid gloves, but the bad guys are killers.”

“Nat, he already served time for something he didn’t do. They took away his benefits, and he hasn’t seen a doctor for an arm that is in chronic, terrible pain. I don’t think he trusts the system.”

She sighed. “I don’t blame him for being afraid. These guys made the   
evidence disappear. That’s why Barnes was hung out to dry. The investigators couldn’t even concretely identify which units were being sent to secure which villages for a six month span. The computer spreadsheets, the paper records, it was all gone. Someone went in there and did that. Someone with the clearance not just to see the records, but to alter them. Barnes knew where the bodies were buried literally. His capture and recorded confession, upset their sweet deal.”

They all sat in silence for a second before Natasha continued, “I would bet the only reason Barnes is alive is because another unit stumbled upon him. I bet if Rumlow’s platoon would have found him first, they would have just brought back his corpse.”

Steve turned pale. “But, how could they do that? They were his unit.”

“Men who murder children, know no loyalty.” Her eyes locked on him, and Steve knew she had met men like this before.

After staying home for a whole week, Steve realizes he needs to go to work. He can’t live hidden in here forever, and he has depended on Nick’s kindness long enough. 

Finding the motivation to shower and dress felt like a Herculean task. Once he entered the store, he went to Nick’s office. He felt like he needed to apologize, and thank him. He could have easily fired Steve. 

Knocking on the door, Steve waited a bit. 

A booming voice yelled “Come in, already.” When Nick realized it was Steve his face changed, the scowl fell away. “Rogers,” he said, “glad you’re back.”

Stepping forward, Steve stood next to the desk. 

“Have a seat,” Nick added. Steve had never sat in Nick’s office. Never had a conversation with the man other than about work. 

Nick added, “From your face, I guess Barnes is gone.”

Steve nodded, looked at his shoes.

“Listen Rogers, I’ve served three tours. One in Afghanistan, two in Iraq.” He sighed, leaned forward on the desk. Steve sat frozen. “I was in Iraq when Barnes went missing, then was found. My unit was stationed over a hundred miles away. It was a very big deal.”

Nick paused, rubbed his face, looked away for a minute. “I still vividly remember how he looked when he was rescued. Kid looked horrible, it was all over the news. Then the video was released. Kid couldn’t catch a break. While I was getting out, he had gone to trial. I think there was a whole lot more to that case. No way some E5 was the mastermind behind this. Kid was in charge of a squad. In army lingo that’s a dozen troops, tops. He didn’t have the kind of pull to cover up a massacre.” 

Nick started to sound angry. “Then, I hear he gets time and a dishonorable discharge. That’s shit. Kid spent two weeks getting tortured by Iraqi insurgents, and we send him to Leavenworth.” Nick hit the desk with his open palm. Stopped and collected himself. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him out in the alley. Walked past some crap car, and there was Barnes sleeping in it. He had all that long hair, but it was him.”

Steve looked surprised. “You recognized him?” he said.

“Of course, I recognized him.” He growled, continued softer, “I’m not supposed to hire anyone new. Budget is getting so tight, Pierce wants me to let Clint go. Big chains are eating us alive. But, I told Pierce I wanted to shift some stock, see if we could save money by clearing out the file storage, shove that shit onto the shelves up in the eaves. Pay someone under the table. I found Barnes and offered the job. Told him that he could earn some cash by putting stuff away.”

He shook his head and continued, “He jumped at the chance, looked healthy. I thought his arm had healed. I forgot how much damage those bastards did to it.” he stopped for a second. Stared at his hands on the desk in front of him.

Steve sighed, a tear rolled down his cheek, and he tried to catch it. Rubbed his fists into his eyes, and said “I think it always hurts him. I don’t know when the last time he saw a doctor was. I tried to help, but I made things so much worse.” His voice broke.

“Worse?” Nick looked up, uncomfortably reached under his desk, produced a box of tissues, and slid it towards Steve. “Wipe your nose, people are going to think I’m firing you.” He grumbled, “Tell me how you made it worse.”

Quietly, Steve spoke, “I told my friend Natasha, She’s a detective. She said she would look into it. Turns out they had to turn it over to the FBI. The FBI came to my apartment. The Fucking FBI.”

Steve blew his nose, took a second before shakily continuing, “Bucky ran. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. Before, he had a car, and a sleeping bag. Nat said they found his car.” Steve paused, cleared his throat. “Half his clothes are at my place. His sleeping bag, too. Nick, it’s freezing at night.”

Nick growled, “He’s an NCO in the damn Army, Rogers. He’s been to war. He can sleep on the ground, and eat nails. He will survive.” 

Choked up, Steve added, “He shouldn’t have to live like that.” 

They locked eyes for a second. “You are damned right.”

Steve almost smiled at Nick, for the first time since he met the man, he kind of liked him. “I don’t know how to find him.” Steve said.

“I don’t think we do.” Nick answered. 

Suddenly, Steve didn’t like him any more. 

Continuing, Nick said, “This is none of my business, but you two were more than just room-mates, right?”

Steve blushed, was about to answer, but Nick started talking.

“Okay, say no more.” Nick grumbled looking away for a second, then he looked back at Steve, “When your friend the Detective clears Barnes’ name, he’ll come home.”

“How do you know?” 

“I sat in this office with him, and every time you came into view he got all gooey eyed, tripped over his own feet, smiled like you were the funniest thing. I’ve heard you talk, you are not that funny.” 

Eyes still wet, Steve laughed. 

Nick finished, “something like that, you come back to. You just have to keep your eyes open.”

When Steve left the office, he was reeling. He didn’t know which way was up, and spent the afternoon ringing people up in a daze. Regular customers kept asking him if he was alright. He guesses he wasn’t, but told everyone he just had a long night. Allowed people to smile and nod. Tell him to get more sleep. Steve didn’t see Nick till he was leaving. Found Nick creeping around up in the eaves, trying to move boxes with Clint. They had figured out a way to use the pulley. 

That night Steve paints, and every night after that. He paints till he can’t keep his eyes open, then he sleeps. Even on evenings when Sam and Nat come over, he paints. They eat and watch him paint. Steve eats while painting. Every night he makes a new painting of Bucky. The publishers will get someone else if he doesn’t make them something soon. Steve doesn’t care. He paints for himself, and lines the rooms with the paintings. 

He knows Sam and Nat think it’s a little crazy and obsessive. Sam said that if it helps him work through his emotions, it’s good. A few times, Sam comes in and gets an eye full of something he would rather not see. Asks, Steve to put the canvas away till he is gone. 

One portrait made Sam blush and turn away, said, “I think Bucky will want to clear that, before you go showing it to people.”

Starting to take it away, Steve stopped when Nat put her hand on his. She stared at it for a long time, finally she said “I’ve only seen a man make that face once,” before she went to the kitchen to make the salad. 

Steve wanted to tell her he had only seen Bucky make that face once, but once was enough.

Two months later, Steve has so many paintings he has them stacked on every wall, hung in every bare space. He started working for the publisher again. Only paints Bucky every few nights now.   
A friend of Nat’s owns a gallery. She showed him a photo she took of one of the nudes. Nat’s friend wants to do a show of the paintings of Bucky. Steve refuses to allow anyone to see the nudes after that. He considers putting the clothed paintings into a show, but doesn’t. Bucky hadn’t liked seeing himself exposed. Steve would never do that to him unless he approved. 

The snuck photo was the source of a few days of strained relationship between Steve and Nat. Finally, she brought him a peach pie. Steve wept. 

One of the endless days on the register, Steve startles as Natasha bursts through the front doors. She’s wearing her badge and gun at her belt, and a dark blue jacket that says POLICE in bold white letters. Clint is stocking shelves near the front. He knocks over about fifty cans of soup, as she storms in. 

Steve freezes. She yells across the counter, “The FBI have a confession from Rollins! He pled guilty and gave evidence against the rest of the crew. Two others signed confessions and pled out to charges. All three said Barnes had nothing to do with it.” 

She grabs Steve’s hand. “They’re sending the confessions to the Army lawyers. Hopefully they’ll do what’s right, but I don’t know crap about what they do.” The customer Steve was ringing up looks at him helplessly. Her purse clutched in her hands as she looks between Steve and Natasha. Steve is beaming. 

Natasha pulls out her wallet, looks at the woman, “it’s on me.” Then, Natasha leans over the counter and kisses Steve. 

Nick comes around the corner. After Natasha finishes paying for the woman’s groceries, he yells, “Rogers, I need you in the back.”

Steve follows, and Natasha is right behind him. Inside the office, Nick lobs a box of tissues onto his desk and leaves. Steve and Natasha don’t come out for an hour. When he does, he has red eyes and splotchy cheeks. 

That night Steve sleeps. He also sleeps through the next few nights, till his days off, then sleeps through them too. Natasha and Sam come over and bring supper every night. Then, they leave and Steve sleeps. 

It takes a week till Steve starts to paint again. Bold paintings of sunlight and flowers. The publishers make romance novels, but they tell him to tone down the sappy covers. Not every romance should have a tall dark hero with bright blue eyes. 

It’s not Bucky. Steve wouldn’t paint him onto a cover without his permission. But Steve loves the covers anyways. He smiles while he paints. Makes paintings just for himself again. Paints the city he loves. Paints strangers laughing on a bus, families playing in the park, tall buildings towering into the bright blue sky.

He smiles at work, and sleeps at night. Paints for fun in the evenings. The joy lasts for a few weeks before Steve realizes that Bucky might not know his name is being cleared. The press was quick to publish the horrors Bucky endured, and his scandalous trial. They have picked up the sensational information about the weapons ring, but barely a line or two mentioning the guilty giving evidence to clear Bucky. 

When Bucky’s finally exonerated, Steve doesn’t even find it in the paper at all. He hears about it from Natasha. Afterwards he immediately goes on the internet for confirmation, finds nothing. 

She says, “He’s been acquitted,” sadly shaking her head.

Putting his face in his hand, Steve says, “But how will he know?”


	11. Chapter 11

Navy walls enhanced broad vibrant paintings, gave each image a commanding presence. Every canvas was hung in a neat row, accompanied by a small white placard with blocky print. 

Steve stared, picked out the repetition of his name throughout the room. He wasn’t used to seeing the paintings spaced out like this. At home they were heaped in a jumble, haphazardly leaned against every surface, or squeezed up onto the wall, one after the next. Many, he only owned as little copies, reprinted in paperback size. 

This was the opening of his show. Steve wasn’t the only artist in the gallery, but he was closest to the door. That was a place of honor in a gallery. His mouth was dry and he drifted over towards a table. 

Trays mounded with green grapes, slices of apple and wedges of orange covered tables near the center of the gallery. Burled wooden boards held artisanal cheeses and crackers next to neat rows of punch glasses. Steve sipped at the punch, tried not to make a face at the weird taste. 

Smartly dressed people were milling and pointing, commenting on the paintings. Steve had been to many gallery shows, but never one of his own. His tie felt too tight, and his suit too plaid. Natasha said the blue plaid brought out his eyes. Not one other person wore a plaid suit. He wished he hadn’t listened. He wished he didn’t stand out. He wished Bucky was here. 

He should have been proud. Instead, his thoughts circled back, and he wished his mom and dad could see this. He thought about how much he still missed Bucky.

The paintings of Bucky weren’t in the show. It would be wrong to have a show of his portraits without his approval. Natasha insisted the Bucky paintings were his best work.

Steve agreed. 

This is a show full of the second best. Skylines, cityscapes, the park. But sometimes, unbeknownst to Natasha or Sam or anyone else, Bucky is in there too. A casual bystander facing away, leaning on a tree. A man in a canvas jacket waiting on a bench at the bus stop. A shadow entering a building. 

The paintings mirrored Steve’s life those first few months. Every corner, every shadowy door, Steve saw Bucky. Eventually, Steve stopped looking for him, and eventually Bucky stopped creeping into the paintings. 

Steve was moving on. 

Slipping out a side door, Steve tried to collect himself. He had been good lately. Not focusing on the could have been’s, but on the good life he had. 

The alley was empty, just brick walls and dark asphalt. Water dripped from a downspout making the sidewalk glitter in the dim light. Steve wandered towards the front of the gallery, watched around the corner. 

People came and went, some talking about the paintings, most about something else. Steve caught a glimpse of someone across the street, straining to look in the gallery window. Ball cap pulled low, canvas jacket hanging loose over layers of shirts. Long dark hair fell from the back of the cap, the face in shadow. Steve started moving towards the man, broke into a run.

The stoplight changed, and cars flooded the street, made Steve pause before crossing. The traffic distracted him enough that when he dashed across, the man was gone. Steve stood in the spot, his heart pounding. He knew his mind was playing tricks, but it had been so long. He wanted his mind to play tricks, just to get one more glimpse. To have the ghost of Bucky with him on this amazing day.

Standing outside, Steve looked up, it began to drizzle again. He took a deep breath then returned to the gallery. As he opened the door, Natasha grabbed his arm, pulled him to the side. 

Leaning close she whispered, “Stay inside. Enjoy your moment.” When Steve opened his mouth to protest, she continued “I have Clint outside watching.”

“Watching for what?” Steve asked, “Are we going to get robbed?”

She scowled at him “Watching for Bucky. Your name was in the paper. He’ll come.”

“And you have Clint outside? To do what exactly?” Steve stared.

“To follow him.” she said.

“Bucky will recognize him. They worked together. And, do you really think Clint can pull that off?” Steve argued. “Plus, why Clint? How do you even know Clint?”

“I know Clint,” she countered “He works with you. Also, he jumped at the fifty bucks I offered.”

“Again, why Clint?” 

She scowled “I couldn’t get anyone else to do it.”

Sam walked up with a plate of little cheese cubes. “Why does cheese taste better in this form? From now on I’m eating all my cheese like this.”

They both looked up.

“Did I miss something? Did Clint already find Bucky?”

Natasha shook her head no.

Sam offered the plate to Steve, “Cheese?”

Steve took a cube, gave Sam a one sided smile, then popped the cheese into his mouth. He almost choked on the cheese when Clint burst through the door. 

“I got him!” Clint yelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life is going to be super busy this week. I'm not even going to try to post another chapter till next weekend. Sorry!


	12. Chapter 12

The whole room turned to stare at Clint as he stood dripping in the doorway.

Steve froze, not sure what to do with this information. Natasha swiftly grabbed Clint by the arm and led him towards a corner. 

“You found him?” she asked, “Did you follow him? Do you know where he’s staying?”

“You said fifty bucks for an address,” he beamed. “I got your address. Bucky went into 2050 Bank Street.”

Natasha fumed, her face turned down, “Did he see you? Because Bank Street is either warehouses or condemned. There is nothing else there.”

Crossing his arms, Clint continued, “He did not see me, and condemned or not, he went into 2050. Then, up the stairs and into one of the apartments. The windows were covered with newspaper, but one window got a little lighter. Like someone was in there.” 

Pulling a fifty from her purse, Natasha handed it to Clint. He smiled while plucking it from her fingers. 

Then he leaned in toward Steve. “I like your work dude. Didn’t know you had it in you. Whatcha got for fifty bucks?”

Still dumbfounded, Steve said, “anything you want, man. You can have any of the paintings on the wall, or I can make you a new one. I owe you man.” 

Clint beamed. “Really?” He stood in place, and turned a circle. “I’ve never had a real painting.” 

Steve looked at Sam, “tell the owner, Clint gets anything on the house.”

Heading for the door, Steve could hear Clint behind him asking Sam. “That means free right? I keep the fifty too?”

Outside, Steve pulled out his phone, shakily tried to look up Bank Street. 

Natasha was behind him, “We’re doing this now?”

Nodding, Steve tried to zoom in, figure out the quickest way. 

“Steve.” She put her hand on his. “I know how to get there.” 

Looking up, Steve realized how nervous he was. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“He was here less than twenty minutes ago. Just to catch a glimpse of you.” She smiled at him.

Attempting to smile back, Steve fell into step beside her. They walked through increasingly dangerous streets. It took them over an hour to get to Bank Street. At the one hour mark, Steve asked “Are you sure you know where you’re going? Clint was there and back in twenty minutes.”

Smiling, she looked over. “Clint wasn’t wearing his best suit. I would bet they went over some fences and past a couple ‘no trespassing’ signs.”

“You think Bucky lives in a condemned building?” he asked.

Nodding, she looked over at him. “But, I caught a glimpse of him too. He didn’t look that bad, all things considering.”

“He’s been right under our noses the whole time.” 

“He ditched the car at the bus station. It was a smart move. Made the FBI think he left the state.” She stopped in front of a building with more boards than glass. Most windows were covered in black painted plywood. A few had their glass. The view inside was blocked with paper or torn curtains. After staring for a minute, Natasha pointed to a corner window on the second story, “There,” she said.

Straining, Steve tried to tell the difference. “I should go alone.”

“No way Steve,” she put her hand on his shoulder, “I bet you a dime, Bucky’s not the only squatter in here.” 

Once they passed the front door, it was pitch black. The kind of darkness where you can’t see your hand in front of your face. 

Always prepared, Natasha pulled out a tiny flashlight that gave off a blue light. Debris littered the stairwell. They had to slowly pick their way up the stairs, constantly watch their footing for bottles and trash that might make them stumble. Near the top of the first flight, something crunched underfoot. The whole stairwell reeked, and Steve pulled the decorative handkerchief from his coat pocket to cover his nose. It didn’t do much. When they emerged onto the second floor, there was graffiti on the walls, but the trash was gone. Bucky probably cleaned out this area. The door to Bucky’s apartment had a shiny new hasp screwed onto the outside.

Natasha pointed to it. Gestured that someone locked it when they left. Hooked her finger to tell Steve ‘padlock’. It wouldn’t keep a crook out, but it kept the homeless from wandering inside when Bucky was out. 

Steve raised his hand to knock, but Natasha shook her head, shoved the door open with a hard kick. 

The old wood frame splintered, sent the door banging into the wall beside it.

The room was once a Victorian beauty with high ceilings, plaster moldings, and wood floor. The plaster was now bubbled and buckled along the outer wall, part of the ceiling had collapsed leaving exposed joists, and dark stains marred the floor. Candles burned in neat rows in an empty marble fireplace only a foot from a mattress lying on the floor.

In the shadows, Bucky stood in the corner, a length of pipe in his hands ready to swing. The bare mattress between them. A ragged sleeping bag was tangled at Bucky’s feet. Piles of old paperbacks and library books were stacked next to the mattress. 

It took Bucky a second to realize who they were, then his hands dropped. The pipe slipped from his fingers, clattered onto the bare wood floor. Everyone stood frozen, till Natasha broke the spell. 

“I’m gonna wait in the hall,” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder. Quietly she walked out, closed the door behind her.

Stepping forward, Bucky said “Steve.” The candles lit his profile, and he had a timid smile.

Steve was relieved, Bucky looked good, healthy. He still had a short beard, his hair was longer, and Bucky had put on some muscle. He looked broader, thick arms stretching the fabric of his shirt. Importantly, Steve noticed that he used both hands on the pipe. 

“Buck, you can come home.” Steve blurted.

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“You’ve been cleared. You can come home.”

“What?” Bucky repeated, then sat down hard onto the floor. It seemed like his legs gave out. 

Rushing forward, Steve knelt in front of him. Took Bucky’s hands in his. “Please Buck. Come home.” Leaning forward, Bucky began to weep. His hands slipped from Steve’s, and covered his face as he folded forward. Steve slipped his hand over Bucky’s shoulders, rubbed at his back, tugged him into his lap. Bucky clutched at Steve’s coat, looked up after a few minutes. His face was red, and his eyes were wet. 

Lunging forward, Bucky grabbed Steve’s lapel, kissed him hard then pulled away smiling. Patting the lapel back down, Bucky said “You look amazing in that suit,” then leaned in for another kiss. This kiss was slower softer. Steve leaned forward, pushed Bucky towards the mattress. 

Looking up, Steve said “The candles are romantic.”

“They’re hell to read by.” Bucky said, letting his head fall back as Steve kissed his neck. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, pushed him away, “Natasha is right outside the door.”

“Good, then we don’t have to worry about anyone surprising us.” He gave Bucky’s neck a long lick. Bucky moaned. 

“I missed you so much.” Bucky gasped.

Steve began to weep. 

Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s shoulders, mumbled, “It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay.”

“Please, come home.” Steve finally said.

“What do you mean, when you say I’ve been cleared. How do you know?”

“Natasha heard it first, but I went to the courts, got copies of the papers.” He sat up looking Bucky in the eyes. They glittered in the candlelight. 

“So the FBI isn’t looking for me anymore?”

“Buck, they cleared you of the original charges. Rollins and two other jerks testified. You’ve been exonerated. The paperwork might take a while, but you’re gonna get an honorable discharge. You get benefits, and disability, and VA doctors. The whole nine yards.”

Sitting up, he gently pushed Steve back a bit, untangled himself. They sat together and Bucky looked away, “Steve that doesn’t change the way people will look at me. I still can’t go to the VA.”

“Don’t make that decision now. Just take it one step at a time.”

Bucky nodded, eyes on the floor, he whispered, “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

A scratching noise came from a dark corner. They both looked over. “What was that?” Steve hissed.

Bucky stood, grabbed his duffel, opened it and shoved the books inside. Reaching over, he turned on a big yellow flashlight. He blew out the candles in the fireplace. Standing, he hefted the bag onto his right shoulder. Moved towards more candles on the mantle. 

“Go out in the hall with Nat.” Bucky said “When the candles go out the rats get bold.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to where Nat stood in the hall. She seemed surprised to see Steve alone, looked around him back at the door. Steve whispered “He’s coming.”

A few seconds later Bucky came out into the hall. He turned to pull the door closed, then hesitated, left it open. They all quietly filed out of the building. Once outside, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, held it the whole time. Natasha called Sam to come get them. Bucky kept staring at Steve, and Steve stared right back. 

A new silver sedan pulled up, Sam yelled, “Hey man, good to see you.” Bucky smiled. Steve and Bucky piled into the back of the car, Natasha sat up front. 

The drive home was quiet. No one seemed to know what to say. Bucky and Steve stared at each other the whole drive. Sam and Natasha left them at their curb. Drove off with a wave. Bucky looked up at their building with wide eyes. He hesitated at the steps, then followed Steve up, hung back at Steve’s door. 

“I feel like I should leave my stuff out in the hall. I probably got rat shit in everything.”

Steve said “Just bring it in Buck, we can go through it tomorrow.”

Bucky backed out, “Naw man, I don’t want to upset your asthma.” He turned and headed back down the stairs. Steve followed right behind. “Go on in Steve. I’ll be right up.”

“I can wait.” Steve said.

Opening the bag, Bucky dumped the whole thing on the sidewalk. The temperature had been dropping though the night. Clouds were blocking the moonlight and it felt extra quiet. Few cars were out at this late hour. A biting wind whipped a few flurries in the air. 

Bucky pawed through the books. Shook out everything. When he was satisfied things looked clean enough, he dumped the clothes in, closed the bag up. Dragged it up the entry stairs, left it just inside the building’s front door. 

“Tomorrow’s not trash day is it?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head no, “Are you leaving that there?”

“Yeah,” he returned down the stairs lifted the stack of books, and Steve grabbed a stack off the top. Bucky continued, “I doubt anyone wants my shit. I just don’t want anyone to toss it.”

Once they stood outside Steve’s door a second time, Steve fumbled to unlock it while holding the books. Went in and dumped the books onto the table. Turned to see Bucky stand in the doorway. He looked lost. Steve took the books from him, dumped them next to the door. 

“Hey,” Bucky protested “Don’t hurt the library books.”

Tugging Bucky by the hand, he finally came in. “They’re fine,” Steve said, kicking the door closed. Bucky looked around, slowly circled the room, found a much different apartment than the one he left. When Bucky first moved in, Steve only had one painting on the wall. The rest were copies of the masters. Now the copies were gone, replaced with landscapes, cityscapes and portraits. 

Drawn in, Bucky found himself on the canvases. He smiled, touched the canvas and said, “Now this should be in a gallery.” he laughed.

“That’s what Nat and the gallery owner said.”

Bucky looked over at Steve, unsure. Steve moved forward, stood barely an inch from Bucky. Leaned up, slid his hand along Bucky’s stubbled cheek. Bucky ducked his head down, put his hands along the sides of Steve’s face. They breathed each others air for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes. In a fierce lunge Bucky kissed Steve, backed him towards the wall, then dropped to his knees. “You look so hot in that suit. It brings out your eyes.”

“I am never doubting Nat again.” Steve moaned.

Pushing Steve’s hands back to his sides, Bucky went back to unzipping Steve. “Should I ask?”

“She picked the suit.” Steve paused and groaned. Gasped “She found you.”

“Then I owe her. But, stop talking about her.” 

Steve groaned again, fisted his hands in Bucky’s hair. Bucky was better at this than before, his desire overriding his nerves. 

Exploring hands touched and stroked, while his warm mouth took Steve in. It had been so long. Steve was moaning and cursing, his knees turning to jelly. Bucky didn’t stop when Steve tried to push him off. 

Afterward, Steve tied to drag him to the bedroom, but he balked. Said he needed a shower. Didn’t come back out till Steve was almost asleep in bed. He slipped into the room wrapped in a towel, found some of his old sweats still in a drawer, and tugged them on. Came to bed fully clothed, and slid into the bed next to Steve. 

The moonlight was streaming between the blinds. It cast stripes in the room. Steve watched Bucky settle in, wrapped around him. Almost immediately Bucky began the heavy even breathing of sleep. Steve watched him for over an hour before he also finally nodded off.


	13. Chapter 13

Stretching lazily, Steve realized he was the happiest he had been in a long time. The morning sun streamed through the blinds, it gave the room a golden glow. Bucky was still out cold. Sleeping on his side, he had his hands up, looked like a boxer. Long dark hair fell across his face, Steve reached over, tucked the soft strands behind his ear and watched Bucky breathe till he drifted off again. 

Waking up starved, Steve found his clock and realized it was well after lunchtime. Bucky had rolled away, but his hands were still in front of his face. He still looked like he was fighting someone. Steve wrapped himself around Bucky’s back, pulled him into his chest. He leaned in and stroked Bucky’s hair, kissed behind his ear. Gently pushing the hair out of his way, he kissed the back of Bucky’s neck. Slipped his hand around his stomach. Bucky pressed back against Steve. 

Steve only wore thin cotton pajamas. He was getting the front damp, rubbing against Bucky. Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky tipped his head to the side, allowing better access. He ground back against Steve, who slid his hand under Bucky’s waist band and took a hold of his warm solid length. Grinding back and forth, Bucky was pushing against Steve and moving Steve’s hand over his length. Bucky let out a long shaky breath, that turned into a moan. The hand not on Bucky’s cock gripped Bucky’s hair. Pulled his head back, and Steve kissed at the side of his throat. Nipped up to Bucky’s jaw. This time Bucky’s moan was open mouthed and loud. 

Moving quickly, Bucky pulled Steve’s hand from his pants. Bucky sat up, shuffled away. “Hang on, hang on,” he was saying.

Freezing, and pulling away, Steve shuddered. He was rock hard. 

Turning, Bucky pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. He looked over at Steve as he shuffled out of his pants. Steve just lie there staring. “Steve, pants.” Bucky barked, then climbed up to find the lube. The fat bottle was buried under papers and junk, and Bucky ended up dumping the drawer on the floor trying to find it. 

Lying back naked on the bed, Steve laughed. “Easy Buck, we got all day.”

“I want more than a hand job Steve. I got hands. I want you.” Bucky grumbled climbing back into the bed with the bottle. 

“What do you want specifically, Buck.” Steve said dead serious. Bucky was already sliding into the bed next to Steve. His mouth sucking and biting at Steve’s collarbone. His right hand pulling at Steve’s nipple, before his mouth began to suck there. 

Bucky slipped the lube into Steve’s hand, “Get your fingers in me,” Bucky begged.

Wide eyes looked over at Bucky, and at the bottle in his hands. “Uh, this has a bit of zing, if you know what I mean?” He shifted up, looked over the edge of the bed to the floor. “I might have something milder under-”

“Steve,” Bucky groaned “Come on, please. It’s good. Just please,” Bucky was begging. Steve could see he was hard. Slicking up his fingers Steve slid one behind Bucky’s balls. Bucky twitched and grunted, looked at Steve wide eyed and shocked.

“I warned ya.” Steve said. 

On a deep breath, Bucky lie back spread his legs and slipped his own finger inside. His hand glistened, and it slid right in. He lie back panting and sweating. “What the hell is this stuff?” he asked shakily, face flushed.

“It feels really good on your dick.”

“It’s not on my dick.” Bucky said ,sliding a second finger in. “Fuck…” He moaned, dragging the word out. He had a bright crimson flush down his chest now.

“You’ve been fingering yourself?” Steve asked, mouth hanging open. 

“Not with this crap. Oh, It, It’s intense, It feels like it’s on fire, I don’t know if I can… I need, please Steve, you gotta do it now.” Bucky’s cock lie on his stomach, as he moved his hand it twitched and jerked. 

Steve knelt between Bucky’s legs, slowly pulled at Bucky’s wrist. As Steve slicked himself up, he felt the heat. It made his toes curl. Pushing against Bucky, he slipped right in. Began a maddening pace that didn’t let up as Bucky cursed and writhed under him. Unused to the strange heat, Bucky didn’t take long to come. His whole body bowed tight and he froze, his cock pulsing. Steve kept up his pace, leaving Bucky moaning low and breathy on every thrust. 

After Steve finished, he pulled out, slid down and sucked till Bucky was cursing again. The second orgasm surprised him, cut him off mid curse, to bow him up, almost throwing Steve off. He collapsed down afterwards, panting. 

Breathing hard, he looked down at Steve, who was still low on the bed. He reached out tangled his fingers in Steve’s, tried to pull him up, but Steve was content down there, rubbing and touching.

“Steve, stop.” Bucky groaned, “I give. I can’t go again.” 

Steve looked up at Bucky and laughed.

“Does that mean I win?” Steve smirked.

“Yes, you win.” He breathed, “Stop. Don’t use any more of that shit. Your killing me.” 

“You didn’t like it?” Steve smiled, stroking Bucky softly.

“Maybe? I don’t know? It was intense. It was too much,” He complained, “I, I fuckin came like a freight train, just ease up. I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack. And, I still feel that stuff.”

Moving up the bed, Steve curled around Bucky, his knee rubbing Bucky’s groin. “I told you, I have the regular stuff in the…”

“Steve,” he warned. 

“I missed you Buck,” Steve said while stroking his chest. 

Left arm flung over his head, exposed and in bright sunlight. Steve wondered if he just forgot, or was less conscious. As soon as his thoughts went to Bucky’s arm, Bucky frowned, saw where Steve was looking. Steve took his face in his hands, said “no.”

Then Steve grabbed Bucky’s left wrist, brought it down, poured some of the warming lube onto Bucky’s hand then pushed Bucky’s hand between his legs. Bucky’s eyes couldn’t have been wider. He slipped his fingers in. Steve got up on all fours, rode him like he was practicing for a rodeo. Came panting and sweaty. Bucky was also breathing hard. Steve curled around Bucky and they both passed out. 

Waking later, Steve announced “No more sex till after we eat.”

Bucky lie back and laughed. Steve looked over at him, “You look good Buck, you look happy.”

“I am happy. I am also starved.”

It took a few days before they recovered their footing. Bucky was still unsure about his place in Steve’s life, and Steve felt Bucky pulling away. More importantly Steve could see that Bucky refused to rely on Steve financially, always trying to assert himself as self sufficient. Constantly trying to contribute to the household. 

Soon enough, Steve found out how life was for Bucky in the time he had gone missing. He had found himself three part time jobs. All three paid under the table. Two were within walking distance of the condemned apartment he claimed as his home. The third one he had to catch a bus to get to, but it was only on Sundays, so Bucky considered it very doable. 

The afternoons Bucky spent stocking shelves and sweeping up, in a Vietnamese market. The woman who owned it, needed to replace her son who had joined the military. It was also only a couple hours a day. This was the first job Bucky got when he still had the sling, and jumped at every strange sound. 

He told Steve, he knew he looked terrible when he came inside the store asking about the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window. He was prepared for another rejection, resigned to find something in the trash for supper. 

He hadn’t really looked her in the eyes when he asked, waited for an answer in her pregnant pause. When he looked up she was looking him over, old jeans, heavy coat over layers, hands darkened with a street grime he had trouble washing out at the library. He knew he probably had started to smell, everything needed to be washed. She was staring at the make shift sling he wore, he looked down at it too. Then she told him minimum wage, go put the cans under the counter onto the shelves by the door. He works from three to six every day. Helps out with everything and anything, till her husband gets home from his day job. 

She sent him home with a bit of cash, and a small bag of cans of food that night. He couldn’t read the labels, didn’t know what the stuff was. Figured out which were too spicy for him to eat right away. She fed him most nights, made sure he didn’t go hungry. Now, when a customer asks, as long as they describe the food, he knows which cans they are looking for. Sometimes he knows the names.

After he left the store at six, he headed over to the pawn shop. This job was basically janitorial. Vacuuming, sweeping, scrubbing toilets and wiping down the glass showcases for two hours a night. Cleaning up in the evening, while the owner finished up and went over their books.

The Sunday job is washing cars in a used car lot. The Vietnamese family had a friend who needed a hard worker. Someone who would take little pay, and not need a W-2 at the end of the year. He was paid per car. There were about twenty cars on the lot, and they wanted them to look nice. Bucky had to travel by bus for this one. He always came home sore and damp. 

After returning to live with Steve, Bucky kept up his day jobs. Now, he had to catch a bus to all three. He always looked so worn out by the time he got home late in the day. Steve almost wanted him to stop, he barely made any money. 

But, it was his money. He came home with groceries or take out. Was proud of himself, and Steve couldn’t take that from him. 

Their odd hours initially gave them limited time together. Steve moved his shift to later in the day to compensate. One day, Bucky came by the store to bring Steve some supper, and Nick was still there. He saw Bucky and came up front, told Bucky he was going to the Pub on the corner after work. He said he would buy Bucky a beer. It turned out to be one of the best things to happen to him.

Support and love went a long way. But Bucky needed someone who understood what he saw and where he had been. Nick was that guy. A few times a week they go drink beer, and talk about things Steve has only seen in movies. Some times when things are bad, Bucky comes home shit faced. Can barely walk, and Nick drops him at his doorstep, makes sure Steve gets him inside. Nick doesn’t judge.

Ironically, Steve’s best friend Sam holds group therapy at the VA. Bucky and Sam never talk war. You would think neither had been. It was a subject Bucky actively avoided, and Sam didn’t push. One day Steve asked Sam about it, he wondered if Sam could help Bucky with therapy. Sam thought it best that Bucky find what works for him. Let Bucky take the lead. 

A letter came in the mail one day. It sat in the pile Bucky retrieved from his post office box. If was a simple white envelope with a VA return address. Steve spotted it, but let Bucky get to it in his time. Finally, when Bucky opened it, he threw the letter into the pile of mail and announced he was going for a walk. 

Steve paced the apartment for ten minutes after Bucky left. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and unfolded the letter. It was an invitation to come get a new VA ID card, and a medically retired military ID card. A case manager and their number was included to set up a counseling meeting where they can discuss his benefits, both medical and financial. Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t get 100% disability, but any regular money would help. 

The letter specifically included medical care. A whole three paragraphs dedicated to it. Steve could weep. Bucky rarely complained, but Steve knew his shoulder still always hurt. The ibuprofen bottle in the cabinet was replaced far too frequently. 

Two days passed before Steve finally couldn’t help himself. He brought up the letter while Bucky was relaxing on the couch. Bucky just shrugged and went back to his book. 

By next morning, Steve talked to both Sam and Nick. Found out getting the IDs should be an easy process. Bucky should already be in the system, he just needed to get a new photo, and wait in a room much like being at the DMV. Sam walked Vets though it all the time. 

Making sure that Bucky woke early, and Steve wasn’t scheduled to go to work till noon. Steve had a big breakfast ready. Over eggs he told Bucky his plans for their morning. 

Bucky looked ready to bolt, Steve came over, put his hand on his shoulder, knelt in front of him, said, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’m tired of seeing you in pain. If you don’t get a VA doctor to look at you, you need to go to an appointment with my doctor. One way or another you’re going to see a doctor. You have suffered through this way too long.” 

Standing, Bucky walked to the door, shoved his boots on, grabbed his coat and left. He hadn’t said a word, and Steve was left staring after him. Hours later, Bucky still hadn’t returned, Steve got ready for work. Left the empty apartment confused and heartbroken. 

That evening, when Steve got home, Bucky was already in bed. He lie in the dark curled into a ball, facing away. The bedroom door was half closed and the light was off. Checking the trash, Steve didn’t think Bucky ate, unless he had something before he got in. No dirty dishes, no scraps, or wrappers. 

Usually, Bucky was up reading. Sometimes he watched the news, but that was rare. He liked the quiet, occasionally he put in music. This was different. The apartment was unnaturally quiet, even though Bucky wasn’t very loud. Steve fixed rice and pork chops for dinner. Set up his paints while he waited for it to cook. 

Setting the table for two, Steve quietly knocked on the bedroom door. Asked if Bucky wanted supper. He mumbled “I’m fine.” and Steve was disappointed he didn’t come out, yet relieved he spoke. In the past hour, Steve more and more had the urge to go check for a pulse. Bucky hadn’t rolled or moved.

Eating while painting, Steve got a lot done. While Bucky was gone, he had gotten used to not using the dining room table. He had even set up a system to make sure he never drank the brush water. Brushes on the right, drinks on the left. Never, ever switch. 

A few hours later he was getting drowsy. He had the whole painting blocked in and most of the background painted. Today he was painting for the publisher. Between the gallery, the publisher and the store, there was no reason for Bucky not to see a doctor. No reason to suffer silently.

Brushing his teeth, Steve checked the medicine cabinet. Found the Ibuprofen bottle empty. He froze, tried to think back. How many were in there yesterday. Can you overdose on Ibuprofen? 

Toothbrush dangling from his mouth, he snuck back into the bedroom. Watched to be sure Bucky was breathing. Felt his neck to see if he was warm. Everything was fine. He went back and finished up in the bathroom. Quietly, Steve slipped into bed. Sleep was hard to come by. 

Morning came and Bucky grumbled and rolled away when Steve got up. Called in to work while Steve showered, and went back to bed. 

Steve was toweling off in the bedroom. Pulling on socks and underwear. “Did I hear you call work?” he asked. Eventually he got a grunt from the bed, then added “Are you sick?”

The lump of covers moved around. Without sitting up or looking at Steve in any way, Bucky grumbled, “Not going.”

Steve walked to the front of Bucky. Knelt in front of his face, his expression was blank “Are you okay?” Steve asked quietly. 

Closing his eyes, Bucky shrugged. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked.

Steve called in sick. Steve called Sam. Trying to be a good friend, Sam said to give him some time, just be there for him. We all have bad days. Bucky hadn’t had a bad day since he got home, maybe he was due. 

By supper time, Steve at least got Bucky to drink some water, but he refused any food. 

Steve painted and worried. By the time he got ready for bed, he had calculated that Bucky had been in bed over 24hours. He hadn’t left except to go to the bathroom. 

The next day was Steve’s normal day off. He stayed in and contacted Bucky’s work for him. Bucky didn’t even seem motivated to do that today. Painting in the living room, Steve finished the book cover. Wasn’t motivated to start another. Every few hours, Steve tried to get Bucky to eat. Tried to tempt him with his favorites, but Bucky scowled at the thought. He switched to offering easy foods, toast or crackers. Still, Bucky waved him away.

When Natasha called, Steve sat on the couch and told her how he was pulling out his hair over this. Steve was about to look up how long someone could go without eating. Mentioning, they needed more ibuprofen, Natasha jumped at the chance to help, said she would get it for him, to hold tight. 

After Natasha brought the medicine, they sat on the couch and quietly watched a movie. The house had become lonely, even with Bucky right there. Sam called and was surprised Bucky was still in bed, and hadn’t eaten. The concern in his voice worried Steve. 

After Natasha left, Steve was able to coax Bucky into eating some toast. Sitting by his side Steve watched him eat, brought him some milk to drink. An ibuprofen tablet sat on the nightstand, and Bucky moved slowly, looked more than just pained. His every movement looked like it took effort. Like just the act of sitting up to eat was just too much. 

Bucky finished the toast, drank the milk and took the pill. Steve offered to make more. Held Bucky’s hand. Without answering, Bucky slid down into the bed, pulled the covers up to his ears. On top of the covers, Steve lie behind Bucky. Held him tight. Soon the nightstand clock turned to midnight. 

Starting to drift, Steve heard Bucky speak. His voice was soft, almost nonexistent. Steve had to strain to hear it. “I was still in the hospital when they came. 

“Two MP NCOs with side arms and batons, came in my room. Slapped cuffs on me, even with my fucked up arm. They said they were arresting me for war crimes. Fucking, war crimes. 

“But, I knew… I made the video only two weeks before. I knew the Iraqis would release it. It was only a matter of time. They dumped me in an interrogation room. One MP, a big bruiser, grabbed my chin. Screamed at me like he was a drill and I was some recruit who just pissed the bed. He screamed, ‘We found the kids bodies you sick fuck.’

“Then, he beat the shit outa me. I started to freeze up, repeat my name rank and serial number like when the Insurgents took me. I couldn’t process what was happening. The NCO just kept calling me ‘baby killer’ asked if I got off on killing kids, Said they shoulda let the Iraqis have me.

“It was less than two weeks from when I had been rescued. Eleven days. I had eleven days of peace, before I was thrown back into hell.” Bucky’s voice finally broke.

“I’m so sorry Buck.” Steve said, wetly. He had been trying not to cry, but hot silent tears came early in the story. Bucky had been talking facing the wall, and Steve was glad he couldn’t see his face.

“Even my therapist thought I killed those kids, his whole body language changed after the charges. They switched me to another one after I went to jail. The jail therapist talked about my murdering those kids like it was a fact. Like, you have two hands, you’re eyes are blue, and you killed those kids.

“I had never had a panic attack till the conviction came. Right there in the courtroom, as the judge said the words, I couldn’t get any air. I thought I was gonna die. They had a medic in the building, he didn’t seem too concerned. 

“I felt like I would never be safe again. I was trapped in hell.” Bucky rolled over, faced Steve. Burrowed under Steve’s chin, held on tight, as Steve stroked his hair, ran his hand down Bucky back. 

“It was two years ago today.” After a few minutes Bucky pulled back, looked at Steve with shining blue eyes, “You never looked at me like you thought I did it. Even when your friends said I should go. Even when I said I should go.” 

Bucky moved forward, buried his head under Steve’s chin again, continued, “You got me exonerated. I don’t even know how you did it. I tried to run, hide away, made myself invisible. I was already convicted once of something I didn’t do. I couldn’t go through that again. 

“I was pissed the FBI were after me. I was happy here with you, and you blew it, you couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t let me be the loser with a criminal past. It was over with. I served my time.” Steve had to restrain himself from protesting, disturbing his flow. Bucky needed this. The wound needed to drain in order to heal.

“But, Steve Rogers does not let things go. You had to fix it. I knew you did it for you. You wanted me to be innocent. But I’m not, I’m still stained, bloodied, tainted. I’ve killed people. I was mad for a week straight. Then, I just missed you so much. I actually moved back to be closer. I was terrified of being caught, but I missed you.” 

They just lie together weeping. By now, Steve could feel from his hitched breathing that Bucky was weeping too. It was the first time Steve realized that Bucky’s pain ran so much deeper than the physical. The arm was just the tip of the iceberg. 

Voice cracking, he whispered, “I missed you too, Buck. I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MP = Military Police


	14. Chapter 14

Silently they lie tangled together in the dark. The tears dried. Steve’s arm fell asleep, but he didn’t move. Bucky’s steel grip around Steve’s waist hadn’t eased. It took a while, but finally Bucky slept. Steve had been left reeling, his mind raced. 

Bucky was right, Steve had caused all of this. Steve really didn’t let things go. All Steve’s life, he had considered his tenacity his greatest asset. It was as much a part of who he is as his blue eyes. Still, he worried he might have overstepped, and he worried he might not have done enough. He worried about how to make things right.

Staring at the ceiling, Steve kept trying to figure out how to fix everything. 

Bucky had been dealt a shitty hand, and Steve would get him every benefit he deserved. Steve wanted to text Sam, ask about therapy options. He would spend every dime he owned to fix this. If that meant he had to pay for the therapist to come to his own damn apartment he would. If Bucky doesn’t want the VA’s help, he will get help somewhere else. 

When Bucky’s grip slipped and Steve could reach his phone, his righteous anger waned somewhat. It changed into a different kind of outrage. Amazed, Steve scrolled through sites about therapist prices. Without insurance, even office visits would strain their budget. Bucky would need the VA. Selling a few paintings had given Steve a good cushion, but without insurance, this would soon cost more than he had. 

Steve had spent so long concentrating on the physical pain, it felt like so much wasted time. But what could he have done? They couldn’t have afforded a therapist, even if Steve understood the problem. 

Getting Bucky to actually go to a therapist, might be as difficult as getting him to see a regular doctor. Could be worse. Bucky’s previous experience with therapists had caused their own issues.

Rolling around in his sleep, Bucky reached up to rub at his shoulder. That problem hadn’t gone away. The new jobs allowed Bucky to take it easy on the arm, but Bucky should have physical therapy too. He just avoided using the arm, and Steve would bet that was making it stiff and weak. 

Throughout the night he looked up potential physical therapist in the area. He also sent Sam a text about a local therapist for Bucky’s emotional state. He was waiting on that response. 

In the mean time, he surfed the internet through a maze of sites about Soldiers with PTSD, guilt, survivor guilt, and the psychological aftermath of false arrest. 

Though his father had served in the military, Steve was absolutely ignorant of most aspects beyond the movies he has seen. Bucky seemed as traumatized by the loss of his honor as anything else. The more Steve thought about it, the more he realized that must be why Bucky won’t go to the VA. He thinks the other soldiers see him as a disgrace to the uniform. 

It wasn’t usually in Steve to care what other people think about what he does. Steve would say Fuck’em. But Bucky is very different than Steve. He can tell by the way Bucky gets embarrassed by certain things. Steve saw the photos of Bucky in uniform, he looked happy, he looked proud. 

Steve hadn’t slept a wink when the sun came up. He was deep into an article about soldiers and honor when he realized Bucky was awake and staring at him. Smiling gently, Steve leaned over to kiss Bucky. Found Bucky’s hands on his chest holding him back. 

“What were you doing?” Bucky asked.

Steve said, “Looking up army stuff.”

Bucky’s eyes slid away, focused on the wall “I should go Steve. You deserve better.” he sighed “I’m not worth all this.”

Kicking Bucky in the shin, Steve growled “You do not get to decide that for me.” 

Bucky clutched his shin, “Did you kick me?” he said, like he wasn’t sure it just happened. 

“Stop complaining, I didn’t kick you hard.”

“Is this gonna be a regular thing? Cause I got enough issues,” Bucky grumbled.

“No, No.” Steve put his hands out, “Sorry Buck, I…”

Reaching out, Bucky wrapped around Steve, put him into a headlock and pinned his lower body down with his legs, then gave Steve a noogie. Steve flailed. His glasses were knocked off, lost into the tangle of sheets. 

“Don’t roll! Don’t roll!” Steve yelled. 

Immediately, Bucky released and Steve grabbed his glasses. Carefully, he checked them, then leaned over and set them and his rescued phone on the nightstand. Watching Steve worry over his glasses, Bucky didn’t see the move coming. 

Grabbing Bucky’s good arm, Steve twisted, rolled him over, then got an arm lock on Bucky. Making a production of it, he licked his finger and stuck it in Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky howled, and launched out of the bed the second he was released. He rubbed at his ear, grumbling “Gross,” and hopped around the room while Steve laughed.

Standing by the bed in his grungy sweats, Bucky gave a shiver and shook his head. “You fight dirty.” Looking around, Bucky gave the air a whiff, then smelled his shirt. “Speaking of dirty, I kinda reek.”

“That is what showers are for.” Steve shrugged, smiling.

“Where’d you learn the wet willy headlock?” He said, while pawing through the drawers looking for clean clothes. “I gotta do laundry, I don’t have any clean underwear.”

“You don’t have to wear any. I won‘t tell.” Then gave a lewd eyebrow wag.

“Is that all you think about, Rogers?” He sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“What, so it’s a terrible thing to think about you naked?” Steve mocked.

Staring at Steve, Bucky moved closer, sat on the bed. His expression was soft. He reached out and cupped Steve’s cheek. 

Looking away, at the painting of himself on the wall, he whispered “I thought about killing myself.” Steve couldn’t help the loud gasp, bolted upright, grabbed Bucky’s hand. 

Startled, Bucky hastily said, “Not last night…When I was on the run. Living on the streets.” He looked at Steve, then away again. “It was so fuckin cold, and everything was getting worse and worse. After I ditched the car, it rained and all my shit got soaked. What the hell was I living for? Just to go back to prison? I had nothing.

“Nothing, but a memory of what it was like to be happy. Then Mrs. Kim gave me a job. I didn’t have to eat out of the trash. I know there’s shelters and feeding centers, but I was afraid they would find me there. Every fuckin time I closed my eyes, I had nightmares the FBI would drag me off to prison. Around the time I got the job I found someplace dry to stay. Things were looking up, but…thinking about you kept me going.” 

He looked Steve in the eyes. “But, sometimes, I still…” he shivered. “Steve, I don’t know what to do.’ He turned away, put his hands over his face folded down over his lap. “I need... I don’t know what I need… but, I don’t want to feel like this any more.”

“It’s okay, Buck.” Steve leaned over, pulled Bucky close. “Let us help. Me and Sam and Nat. We want to help.” Bucky nodded as Steve held him. “The people at the VA, Buck they want to help too. But, you gotta let them.” Bucky didn’t respond to that immediately, eventually he nodded. 

“I just want the pain to stop.” Bucky whispered.

Steve held him, comforted him, then helped him shower. Steve helped him shower, not because Bucky needed it, but because Steve was a little shaken up, and afraid to leave him alone. 

After they were clean and dry, Steve made a nice big breakfast. Fortified on omelets, they headed out to the VA. First things first, Bucky needed the ID. After that, they would set up an appointment with his case manager. Easy peasey. Until, Bucky vomited the big breakfast into the bushes outside the VA. 

They sat on a bench nearby for over an hour. First, with Bucky’s head between his knees, then sitting shaking and fidgeting. Finally, he steeled himself and they walked over. Passing through the doors they found a waiting room of people in uniform amongst the staff and customers. 

Bucky almost went down. His knees got wobbly and his breathing turned rough. A bald fellow with a lot of stripes on his uniform, unknowingly grabbed Bucky by his bad arm and Bucky yelped. Steve was on his good side, and holding Bucky upright by sheer force of will. 

The fellow with all the stripes had disappeared into the crowd. Within seconds he came around the corner with a wheelchair and a nurse. Still making a wheezing noise, Bucky pushed the chair back, waved it away. The guy with the stripes barked “Get in the chair, son.” and Bucky did. The nurse looked Bucky over before disappearing back behind closed doors.

Gruffly, Lotsa Stripes said, “Where’s your appointment?” while he leaned down and looked Bucky in the eye.

Steve was about to step in. Give this guy a piece of his mind. 

Bucky paused wheezing long enough to say “ID”

Lotsa Stripes turned and yelled “make way!” It was like a sea parted, and Bucky was rolled through. Bucky blushed, looked at his shoes while Lotsa Stripes pushed the chair. Steve didn’t think this was a good idea, but followed along. 

Rolling past the ID area, Steve started to say “But, um, I think over there…” 

Looking back over his shoulder, Lotsa Stripes gave Steve a raised eyebrow, “Lets get the man breathing again.” He rolled Bucky into an office that definitely belonged to Lotsa Stripes. There were flags, challenge coins, certificates, and photos of tanks all over the walls. Steve stood dumbfounded. This guy loved himself. 

Once the door was closed, and the sound of the waiting room was muffled, Bucky’s breathing leveled off. Lotsa Stripes poured Bucky some coffee. Sat in a chair next to Bucky, not behind the desk. 

He extended his hand to Bucky. “Sergeant Major Brown,” he said as they shook hands. Steve realized he should have noticed the name, since ‘Brown’ was on his shirt and on his desk. The desk name plate was custom carved four inch letters with his rank on both ends. Sergeant Major Brown definitely loved himself.

Steve stood behind the chair, wanted to hold Bucky’s hand, but didn’t want to make anything worse. He had never really been around army people. While Bucky shook Brown’s hand, he said, “James Barnes, Sergeant Major.” he glanced around reached up and grabbed Steve’s hand, “And Steve Rogers, Sergeant Major.”

“Son, since your out, you can just call me Dan, or Brown. Your choice.” Bucky’s eyes got really wide. He looked around the room, took in the stuff. It had meaning to Bucky. This stuff was a life of accumulated accomplishments, and Bucky spoke it’s language. 

Brown moved, sat behind his desk, “What’s your social, so I can look you up.” he asked, hand on the computer mouse. 

When Bucky said his full name, rank and social, Brown immediately reacted with a widening of the eyes. Bucky’s hands began to shake with faint tremors. Steve had his hackles up, ready for a fight. Brown turned to them, looked them over and said “I was on Joint Base Warrior only a hundred miles away when all that shit went down. I prayed for you every night when they took you. Our chaplain was a good guy, he had special services for you. Guess all that prayin worked. Good to see you home safe, son.” Then he went back to typing. 

Steve felt emotional, didn’t want to embarrass Bucky in front of a guy with so many stripes, and stars. There was a lot of stuff on that guy’s rank. The fact that Brown did not mention the trial, was not lost on Steve nor Bucky. 

While he was typing, Brown snatched up a box of tissues, slid it towards Bucky. Glancing down, Steve realized Bucky was a mess. Bucky’s shaking hand slowly came up, wiped his eyes with his sleeve and he gave a big snort. Reaching out, Steve snagged a tissue, handed it to Bucky. Blowing his nose, Bucky tossed the tissue into the can in the corner. He gave Steve a watery smile over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Brown started “They had you hooked up with Chowder. He’s an imbecile. I switched you to Hill, she’s a good woman. Served both in Iraq and Afghanistan. She has appointments all day, but we‘ll squeeze you in. I just sent her an email to come down when her next appointment’s done.” He looked at Steve. “You need coffee?” 

Surprised. Steve blurted “Uhm. Nope, I’m fine.” 

“We could use refills. Go down the hall and get two.” He handed Steve two clean mugs.

As the door closed behind Steve, he realized Bucky still clutched a coffee, and there was a coffee pot in the office. 

Scouting out the hall, he looked for the machine. A person in a tie behind a desk looked up. “Coffee pot?” Steve asked. 

The guy scowled, started to wave him in a general direction. When the guy looked up from his papers again, he noticed the mugs. Did a double take. Suddenly he stood, came around the desk and took Steve to the pot personally. Glancing down at the magic mugs, Steve saw Brown’s name and rank boldly across each one. As well as a big tank. Of course. Because, Sergeant Major Brown loved himself.

By the end of the day, Steve loved Sergeant Major Brown as much as he loved himself. It turned out Maria Hill was awesome. A perfect fit for Bucky. She made sure he left with all his ID cards and scheduled appointments for group therapy, individual therapy and physical therapy. She also set Bucky up with a person who specializes in taking military work experience and translating it to civilian jobs. They will help him with his resume, and or enrolling in any further schooling he wants. Steve had entirely forgotten about the GI Bill paying for school. 

For the first time, Bucky wasn’t in survival mode. He was able to plan for a future. 

As they headed home, Bucky had a big smile on his face, kept looking over at Steve. Bumping him with his hip. “Go ahead,” he finally said, “I know you been dying to ask.” 

“Ask what?” Steve looked up at Bucky.

“What Sergeant Major Brown said, when he asked you to leave.” Bucky continued to call him Sergeant Major with every sentence. Probably, part muscle memory, part awe, but a large part was respect. Bucky loved Sergeant Major Brown, too.

“Okay” Steve said mockingly “Bucky, can you please tell me what Sergeant Major Brown told you in your office?” But the reality was that Steve wanted to know so bad, it was eating him up.

Bucky looked sly for about a half a minute more, “He said, this shits gonna be hard. And he said people will still talk shit. Some people are shit.“ He glanced over at Steve. “But more people will want to help, so I should let them. Cause good stuff can come from good people. Then he mighta mentioned that you seemed like a good guy.” He laughed. “And he also said that if anyone at the VA gives me shit, I should tell him, and I will be reassigned to someone else. Because this is a government job and VA employees are tough as fuck to fire, but that didn’t mean I hadda deal with em.” 

When they got back to the apartment Natasha and Sam and Clint were there with a celebratory pizza. Steve may have sent a text or two on the bus home. Nick showed up later with a case of Corona and a lime. Bucky, Sam and Nick told war stories till late in the evening. Not the horrible bloody stories, but the funny ones of people doing dumb stuff. 

Bucky was in the middle of a story about a guy who fired a live round into a clearing barrel outside a chow hall, when Nick laughed so hard, he spit his beer all over Sam. Everyone was rolling on the floor laughing. Sam tried to blot his face with paper towels, but he dropped the paper towels and they rolled from the living room, all the way through the dining room. This set off another wave. Nick fell from his chair. Steve didn’t think he ever saw Nick really laugh before, and he never in his wildest dreams imagined he would be on Steve’s floor. 

The night flew by, and Steve found that Bucky had a skill for telling astounding tales. His dry delivery and gentle smirk made the stories funnier. Sometimes Steve wondered if the stories were completely true or had been embellished for the sake of telling a good tale. Whether or not they were true, they had everyone howling.

Bucky seemed lighter that night, like a terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

The next few months were rough. Sometimes the therapy left Bucky angry or sore. Sometimes both. Eventually, there were more good days than bad. Steve continued painting, and he loved it. Bucky found a job that he loved too. 

Finally, Steve and Bucky finally found their footing. One sunny day, as they walked through the park enjoying the trees, Steve offered his Father’s ring to Bucky. After a few tears, Bucky said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had a little trouble letting the story go. I'm going to miss working on it. Thank You all for reading and commenting.


End file.
